


Victoire Weasley and the Book of Battle Magic

by Agnos



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adult Hermione Granger, Adventure, Aged-Up Character(s), Asexual Charlie Weasley, Auror Harry Potter, Auror Partners, Auror Training, Aurors, Canon Compliant, Character Death, Character Study, Crime Fighting, Curse Breaking, Daily Prophet, Dark Magic, Duelling, Elder Wand (Harry Potter), Elemental Magic, Exploration, Family Feels, Gen, Government Conspiracy, Hit-Wizards, Inspired by Fanfiction, Intrigue, Magic Revealed, Magical Realism, Minister for Magic Hermione Granger, Minister for Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minor Character Death, Multi, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Not Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Compliant, Polyamory, Post-Canon, Post-Second War with Voldemort, Rituals, Slow Build, The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, Violence, Work In Progress, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:14:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 42,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28357581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Agnos/pseuds/Agnos
Summary: When Victoire Weasley dives headfirst into three years of Auror training after Hogwarts, with friends and family on her heels, she explores first-hand what magic is really capable of.From local Dueling Competitions to Ward-Breaking for the Ministry, Victoire learns what it's like to live and work in a community still reeling from the aftermath of War, and that all isn't as well as it seems.Mostly canon-compliant. Deep dives on magical theory. Character driven.
Relationships: Fleur Delacour/Bill Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Teddy Lupin/Victoire Weasley
Kudos: 3





	1. An Anticipated Conversation

**Author's Note:**

>   
> This is a work in progress!
> 
> I am working daily to finish Book 1 and post it in its entirety, but thought it best to post a few Chapters now, rather than wait.
> 
> -V-V-V-
> 
> What we know about Victoire Weasley from the books, and from the author and associated 'official' fan sites, include:
> 
> Victoire was born on May 2nd, sometime (unspecified) in the early 2000s. May 2nd is the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts, and of the end of the 2nd Wizarding War. This fact is alluded to in her parents’ choice for her name.
> 
> She is the eldest daughter of Bill and Fleur Weasley, with two younger siblings. Their maternal great-grandmother was at least partially Veela. 
> 
> Victoire was, at least for several years while at Hogwarts, romantically involved with Edward ‘Teddy’ Lupin, and was apparently not shy about it. Rita Skeeter (still employed as a journalist at that time) drew attention to the couple in her writings, after visiting the Quidditch World Cup in 2014. Teddy is Victoire’s fourth cousin through the Black family line. 
> 
> The author of the Harry Potter series of books owns all information related to her works. This story is owned by no one, and I have endless respect for the opportunity all of us have to read and write for ourselves in this world.
> 
> -V-V-V-
> 
> I have tried to hold to canon (except Cursed Child) where it made sense to do so. Several small things have changed, and some license has been taken as, like in our world, people change and bad things happen as time goes on. Past a certain point, all post-War fics will branch off the 'official' story, and mine is no exception.
> 
> Where it makes sense in my story, I have borrowed several small details or chosen ‘cool’ things to use as jumping-off points from my favorite stories by other fanfic authors. I hope I don’t offend anyone in so doing, as I believe keeping those details alive is the best way I can honor those people who have kept me captivated, long after I shelved my HP books.
> 
> The author of Harry Potter might have opened a door for the world to walk through, but you, dear reader, are why the rest of us keep building houses behind it.   
> 

WAR ANNIVERSARY CELEBRATION AT HOGWARTS TODAY  
 _Headline for May 2nd, Daily Prophet p.1_

MEMORIAL FOR FALLEN EX-MINISTER REVEALED  
 _Headline for May 2nd, Daily Prophet Evening Edition p.1_

BRITISH AUROR PROGRAM ANNOUNCES NEW PARTNERSHIP WITH RUSSIAN MINISTRY  
 _Headline for May 12th, Daily Prophet p.2_

O.W.L.s, N.E.W.T.s, AND THE HIT-WIZARD TESTS: HOW TO SUCCEED  
 _Headline for May 15th, Prepared Practitioner p.1_

ARE YOUR CHILDREN READY FOR EXAMS?  
 _Headline for May 20th, Witch Weekly p.1_

MINISTER-DESIGNATE HERMIONE WEASLEY SPEAKS AT HOGWARTS  
 _Headline for June 15th, Daily Prophet p.1_

HOGWARTS GRADUATION TOMORROW  
 _Headline for June 27th, Daily Prophet Evening Edition p.1_

“Miss Weasley?” Professor Longbottom called from the Head table, at the end of breakfast. 

Victoire Weasley stood up, waving away her classmates with a small smile. Neville took a few steps in her direction, and Victoire walked the Great Hall to meet him.

“Good morning, Professor Longbottom,” she said. He had already changed into dress robes for the Ceremony, though he was one of only a few wizards in the room who had done so. Today’s breakfast was noisy with excitement, but they were close enough now to speak normally.

 _“Bonjour,”_ he started, his accent muddled. “I’ve a few things to say about your Herbology exam, Miss Weasley, though I suppose it can wait until you’re owled your official results. All good things, I promise,” he said quickly. 

Victoire’s smile didn’t waver, though she didn’t reply. 

“Do you have your summer schedule worked out, already?” Neville asked as they walked out of the Hall together.

Victoire waved delicately to a few people at the tables as they passed, and many more students waved back. A small boy at the last table was staring, frozen, with a small spoon dripping porridge onto his wrist. Victoire smiled a little wider at him and nodded her head when his eyes widened, though she couldn’t recall his name.

“Ron mentioned at dinner last week that you had quite the calendar planned,” he finished.

“I do,” she said cleanly. “I had wondered if I could go over a few things with Professor Ranunculus at the end of July, and I’d still like a meeting with you, Professor. Otherwise, I’ve made the routine as tight as I could. Dad and Uncle Charlie offered to look it over, when they got back. _Maman_ said they’d be here today.”

“Oh, that’s great, Miss Weasley. Didn’t I mention you’d be just fine? I’m confident Professor R would agree to help. Anything I can do, I’d be happy to try. Are you staying at Shell Cottage for the summer? And do you think Charlie will have enjoyed California? I’ve never been, but your Gran has talked about it and I think Hannah, I mean Matron Longbottom...” he trailed off for a moment.

Neville’s longwindedness didn’t surprise Victoire. He had always been respectful to her as she had grown up, but almost any man who had only an occasional conversation with her one-on-one tended to overspeak and stumble between topics. Doubly so the last two years, according to Teddy. He always had a big smirk on his face when it came up between them. 

“Yes, Professor, the cottage. And yes, it’s one of the only places Oncor Dragons live in the wild. Dad has a boat we sailed for fishing trips Uncle Charlie wanted to use.” She smiled up at him. “Was there something about my exam you can mention before the owls visit?”

“Oh, right, sorry… No, I’ll be patient and keep you in suspense,” he said, trying a little too hard to be mysterious. “I wanted to respond to your note from last week. The Headmistress and I are...” he trailed off again, before restarting in his deeper, classroom-lecture voice. 

“The Headmistress and I are very proud of you for deciding on this as a career. We will both help you as much as we’re allowed. As Deputy Headmaster I can lend you any books from the Hogwarts Library you might need to study over the summer, and of course you will be welcome back at the start of term for anything you might require, before you’re indoctrinated.” 

Victoire thought he might have rehearsed that. She noticed men talked to her as if they were reading from a script, sometimes, after they had gotten over their nervousness the first few conversations. She figured it helped them stay focused on what they wanted to say. 

Neville’s voice stumbled back into its normal cadence, and he continued, “the Headmistress will not have time to meet with us over the summer, though. I’m sorry, Miss Weasley,” he looked like he meant it.

“Not a problem, Professor,” she replied with a big smile. “All of you offering to help me is plenty enough. I’ll send you a letter a few weeks before I’m ready to meet. _Merci bien,”_ she reached out to brush the Professor’s elbow with her left hand. 

Professor Longbottom seemed like he wanted to say more and missed a step before smiling. He bowed goodbye and turned back toward the Great Hall. Victoire shook her head slightly and smiled again, this time to herself. It was telling he used the word ‘us’ there, and she was sure he’d be a great help over the summer, even if the Headmistress wouldn’t have time to meet. Victoire didn’t mind, of course, though she was curious what might cause the woman to be so busy between terms. Maybe a question for Uncle Ron. 

Victoire thought through her plans again as she walked back to her common room. Between review sessions, meetings like the ones with Professors Ranunculus and Longbottom, her dueling practice this past year with Teddy, and her family backing her, she wasn’t too worried about her preparations. She was sure she had passed her exams with the grades she needed. 

Victoire allowed herself another small smile. She was on her way to being an Auror!


	2. Hogwarts in June

The Hogwarts Graduation Ceremony would take place out in the grounds, a little past the Black Lake, atop a large grass hill. While the Quidditch Pitch might have been big enough to accommodate faculty and the graduating class, it was tradition to invite every student’s family to the Ceremony, along with friends, colleagues from associated academic or sporting clubs, several dozen members of the Ministry, and a delegation from the Allied Educators International Order of Unity. 

Some students had already been offered jobs by various organizations or governmental bodies, but the Ceremony was an opportunity for many students without Ministry contacts, or a sense of forethought, to be introduced to potential employers or to discuss partnerships for their futures. 

In recent years, students were even offered a chance to stay at Hogwarts overnight after the Ceremony, to participate in a Careers Fair the following day, where vendors from wizarding communities, shop owners, and business partnership programs would all be in attendance. 

The idea of staying had come up between Victoire and her mother, though Fleur didn’t give it any credence. _Maman_ had always been a proud woman, and had confidence in her children to spare. 

_“Hoho! Une de mes filles a du mal à réussir? Je n’y crois pas,”_ she had said loudly when Bill’s letter had suggested the idea. Victoire could have insisted, but she was a confident woman too, after all. 

After a quick refresher, Victoire met up with a few of her classmates in the common room. They exchanged hugs and niceties before heading out into the grounds. Karine Balakin was a 6th year student with straight, dark hair, who was talking animatedly about Russian desserts and dinner etiquette to Vivian Jordan, a younger girl, who was wearing a huge blue hat. 

Vivian was well known at Hogwarts for being an up-and-coming competitive dueler; she had won the Hogwarts lower class tournament a few years ago, before her 13th birthday. Since then, she had done well in youth tournaments in France and North Africa, and was one of Professor Longbottom’s protégés in the British Dueling Club. 

Just last weekend, Victoire had gone to London with her Uncle Ron to watch the semi-finals for the European Youth Spring League, where Vivian had stunned and eliminated a 6th year boy from Beauxbatons in under a minute with a combination of Drilling hexes and an Ice-Fly jinx. 

Ron had sent an owl to Lee and Alicia about it, afterward, asking if he could watch some of Vivian’s practice sessions before the final in July.

Two more students rounded out the group, both in Victoire’s year. Janet Eatron and Max Flint had been best friends since they were Sorted together, and were huddled a few steps behind Victoire as they walked. From what she could hear, Victoire thought they must be gossiping about their boyfriends. 

A trio of younger students were jogging toward the castle, staring in their direction as they passed. She gave them a small smile, and leant over to whisper to Karine, “don’t look now, Balakin, but your little brother must have told his friends about your Syrniki recipe. They’re staring.” 

Karine looked back, ignoring Victoire’s warning, and rolled her eyes with a groan as they all strode to where the tents and pyres could be seen, past the lake. Even in cloudless daylight, the blue and purple flames drew their eyes, as bright as the hot iron ingots they had had to pull from their cauldrons after the Potions N.E.W.T. earlier that month. 

A pyre burned for each graduating student, a traditional part of the ritual they were going to start at sundown. Green, Blue, Yellow and Red tents littered the hillside to the left of a large dais that had been raised at the top of the hill. 

Victoire saw a small golden altar and a dark wooden table on the dais, though it was hard to make out details when her eyes kept being drawn to the pyres nearby. She caught herself staring into the flames after a second; the whole group of them had stopped walking, momentarily transfixed. Fleur’s steady stream of warnings about girlhood and the dangers – and uses – of unexplained attraction passed briefly through her head. Victoire wondered idly if this was how Professor Longbottom had felt. 

“Let’s find your _beaus,”_ she said to Janet and Max. “I’d like to talk to Philip.”

After a few minutes of greeting classmates and wandering through some of the larger tents, Victoire and her friends settled down into the grass with Janet’s partner, Christopher, and his younger sister. Max wandered off to find his boyfriend, while Victoire sat slightly behind the group, her notebook open in her lap. If she had been asked about it, she would have said she was reviewing Charms notes, but she wasn’t revising. 

At the age of 11, Victoire and Fleur had had a long talk about how she was to carry herself at Hogwarts. It had mostly been in French, so Victoire’s father (who still had trouble parsing when they spoke at full speed) couldn’t eavesdrop, but Fleur had made it clear to everyone listening that if Victoire felt like she needed to be left alone at any moment while she was at school, she should be equipped to tell people around her to leave her be. It was easier to do subtly and nonverbally, though that didn’t always work.

“At Beauxbatons,” Fleur had started, “I was constantly approached by boys in tze library. I am very lucky to ‘ave been able to pass exams witzout much revising. If you need some time alone, open a book in front of you. ‘Opefully, tzey will take a hint. If tzey still don’t stop botzering you, your fatzer will teach you some ‘exes you can use.”

It was a little while before guests started arriving. Victoire watched people pass the Quidditch pitch from the north, most likely coming from Hogsmeade. Most of them were well-dressed, in high pointed hats and dress robes. A few wore Hogwarts crests, and walked with family members and younger students in school robes or marked capes. 

She saw a very windswept young man in faded brown robes and a twill tunic jog past the Slytherin and Ravenclaw tents to meet up with Professor Longbottom near the Gryffindor banners. Another man, middle-aged and wearing the shaped hat of a Wizengamot official, walked past their group to look over the water up at the castle. He fidgeted with the wand in his left hand as he stood.

Victoire had sat on the grass, positioned so she could see both approaches to the hilltop. The southern gates were open in the distance, no doubt ready for the rail passengers that would come for the Ceremony. She thought it must be too early for that; wizards who could Apparate generally came in from the north. It was a quicker walk up to the castle, and was far more well-paved. 

She could make out a few punts stationed at the southern end of the lake, but thus far everyone had either walked out to the hill from the castle or in from Hogsmeade. She wondered if anyone would actually want to take a boat. The walk from the south wasn’t that far, but some of her classmates’ family members were frail and wouldn’t be up to the task, even for a short while. The Caretaker would surely offer punt rides after the train arrived, if anyone was in need.

Behind her, Victoire could hear a gentle breeze over the water. She hadn’t seen the Giant Squid all year, which was unusual, but the lake itself was always very alive. Pike and Trout would come to any students looking to say hello in the mornings, though they knew to stay away from anyone looking to Accio something for the house elves to fry up. 

Victoire had been a frequent visitor to the lake in the wee hours this year, getting into the habit of running most of the outer paths as she prepared for the Hit Wizard evaluations. She had been surprised to find running in the mornings helped her with stress, and that she slept better at night on days she ran, though waking up before dawn never got easier. She had learned that, on days she slept in and left her run to after breakfast, the shallows were full of eels (and the occasional grindylow) instead of fish, but they were rarely empty. 

Even when snow had fallen, Victoire had always managed to find wildfowl and owls hunting near the treeline, and foxes were often out on the thin ice, looking for food. 

“I love Hogwarts in June,” Victoire said to herself. Today, a flock of mallards were gathering a little ways from shore. To her left, near where the hill met a shallow meadow, she saw a few butterflies moving between spots of tall grass. 

In her fourth year, some of her Potions classmates had come out here looking for Kingsfoil plants. Athelas, as it was called when brewed, was a healing herb used in antidotes (and also burned during childbirth as part of an energy ward). Professors R and Longbottom had mentioned it was rare to find Kingsfoil during the school year, generally only growing in August and only at full efficacy if picked on the anniversary of a public execution or assassination. 

When studying for her N.E.W.T.s, Victoire found contradictory accounts about that last bit; some books said it was a made-up fact, while others said it was true and only counted wizarding deaths involving a royal family member recognized by governmental decree. Victoire had decided she didn’t care that much, and was happy with brewing any antidote during her exam that worked, whether or not it tasted like nectar or dissolved into ash if served with a silver ladle. 

They had never found any Kingsfoil on the grounds, but it had been a nice day out.

“Victoire!” a reedy voice rang out from near one of the tents. Victoire rose out of her thoughts and looked up at two young men walking toward their group. “Hullo, Victoire,” Philip smiled down at her, before briefly turning to the rest of the girls and saying his hellos. He gave Max a quick kiss on the cheek before hopping over to sit next to Victoire, a large notebook in his hands and his normally green-tinged dress robes in unbroken black flowing messily to cover the grass where he sat. Unlike Victoire, Philip was the type of boy who really did revise his notes during breaks. She smiled delicately at him.

“What a surprise to see you!” he said to her, settling himself and leaning back on the grass. He was almost certainly lying; a Weasley who made it seven years through Hogwarts wouldn’t be allowed to miss graduation, and everyone knew Victoire’s grandmother well enough to be sure of the fact. “How do you like the Thunderfire pyres? The Professors must have added our signatures this morning. I keep catching myself staring.”

Victoire relaxed a little, and nodded her agreement. “I heard Hagrid and Professor Napier spent an extra week in Venezuela to bottle the tinder for them over Easter holiday. My Arithmancy classes were cancelled a few times,” she replied evenly. She wasn’t one for small talk, really. “How do you think you did on your exams? Do you think you’ll be accepted?” Other men might have made small talk with her out of nerves, but Philip was just genuinely interested in chatter – he and Max were made for each other.

“Ha! I love that you’re so direct, Weasley. Yes, I do. No doubt, in fact. Do you think you will? I know the Law Enforcement brass haven’t ever seen your ilk in the Auror office before, but I bet you’ll make it through, if barely.” 

Victoire smiled again. It was rare that someone her age teased her, even lightly. Not one to tease back, she continued, “Do you have a plan for the prerequisite work, Philip? I don’t think anyone else from our year is applying, so I’ve no one else to ask.”

He sobered a little, “I do, but I could probably use your help, Weasley. You’re the Potions person. I’m just a poor prefect. Do you think you’ll have time over the summer to revise with me?”

“Of course,” she said.

“Excellent, thanks! Did your letter from the Ministry say when you’ll hear if you made it? Mine didn’t,” Philip said, opening his notebook and browsing through a few pages in the middle. 

“It did not,” she replied. “My uncle mentioned the Ministry gets N.E.W.T. results before we do, so we might see the letter alongside our exam results. That’ll cut down a little tension. He said they used to send conditional offers, so you would know if you’d made it in as soon as you see N.E.W.T. scores. They got rid of that after the old Minister was elected.”

“Do you think your aunt might change that?” Philip asked baldly. Hermione Granger-Weasley had been elected Minister for Magic back in April, resigning her post as Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. She’d been properly designated earlier that month, and had spoken to a crowd at Hogwarts the day before she took her Bonding oath. “I suppose it’s too late for us, even if she does, hm?”

Victoire thought about that for a moment. She figured if Hermione had had enough of her attention drawn to small details like the Auror Trainee application process, she would have been admitting a drop in standards. 

“My aunt isn’t the type of witch to miss little details,” she answered, “but I think she’s more of a big-picture politician. If it wasn’t changed while she was Head of the Department, I doubt it’d be tweaked now.” Victoire hadn’t actually seen Hermione for months. Uncle Ron had some free time and made up for both of them in time spent with his niece, but Hermione had been busy for years, and this year was no different, if not busier. 

Shifting back to her topic, she asked, “my family won’t want to show too early. Do you want to go through your schedule with me? I’m curious,” Victoire said, moving a little closer to Philip on the grass.

Philip looked at her for a moment. “Charming, Weasley. Sure, but I’m hungry. I’ll be right back.” He tossed his notebook carelessly to the side and stood up. “Max! Maximilian! Oi!” he called, shaking his dark hair out of his eyes. Max was standing next to one of the pyres, but quickly said goodbye to the Divination Professor and turned toward Philip. The two boys walked off together toward the Hufflepuff tent, hand-in-hand, and out of sight. 

Victoire got up, too. _“Mes amis,”_ she said to the group, “I’m going hunting.” She flashed a big smile, brushed one of the girls on the shoulder, and walked toward the tents herself. 

Even as a young woman, Victoire was conscious of how talkative she was with her social circles. Her natural default as a girl might have been to disappear during a rare moment where no one was paying attention to her without announcing it, but her teenage years (and _Maman)_ had taught her otherwise. Victoire knew she wasn’t just an attractive woman; there was a certain magic to her presence, whether she liked it or not. If she stood up, eyes wandered to her. If she snuck off, people would worry, even if they couldn’t explain why. 

It was exhausting some days, and Victoire tired of it even now, but it was easy enough to make an extra effort in idle moments, and she really did care about her friends’ feelings.

The ‘hunting’ line was a private joke, of course. Janet and Max were quite the pair growing up at Hogwarts, and had chewed through quite a few eligible boys the past few years, especially. After the Halloween dance earlier this year, they had both mellowed out. Victoire mused that Janet had finally grown up, and Christopher had been waiting for her, as patiently as he got. Max had been ready for a real relationship years ago, including when he and Janet had dated back in 4th year, but Max didn’t light up with anyone the way he did now, with Philip. 

Philip, in turn, was booky and reserved (until he got to know someone, at which point he became a mouth with legs), but had really come into his own after linking up with Max. “Hunting season is over,” Max had said privately to Victoire at Christmas, and she had been quite happy to hear it. She could handle the constant, low-level gossip about relationships; it was the drama involved in more chaotic ‘involvements’ in years prior that drove her out of her mind, and she was quite well rid of it. 

In this case, Victoire wasn’t on the prowl, either. She went looking for her sister, and wandered into one of the tents with an eye for Dominique’s head of yellow hair. Dominique Weasley was her mother’s daughter, too, and it was easy enough to find her. She was surrounded by 7th year boys; mostly Gryffindors, Victoire wasn’t surprised to see. 

“Victoire!” Dominique called, extricating herself from the crowd. There were a few vendors in the tent showing off various wares, and the graduating students soon found other things to ogle at. Victoire saw at least two broomstick handles and what looked like a few of Uncle George’s new line of candies passed between gangly teenagers. She grasped Dominique’s hands with both of her own and exchanged _bisous._

Dominique had left school a few weeks early, having taken a portkey to America after her exams. She had spent a few days with Bill and Uncle Charlie, and came back with them for the Ceremony. Since she was there, it stood to reason Bill and Charlie were somewhere nearby and, sure enough, Charlie found the two sisters after a moment. Dominique finished recounting her trip, speaking in rapid french and great detail about the fashion sense (and economic implications) of American magic-users at the Westphalian Council meeting, and not a word about fish or dragons. 

Charlie hugged Victoire with strong arms and gave her a toothy smile, which she returned. “Congratulations, Blondie. _Je suis tout excité,”_ his accent was horrible, and Victoire grinned all the harder. “Are you enjoying yourself? Hogwarts Ceremonies can get a little dull, I’ve always thought.”

 _“C’est bon, Oncle,”_ she said, stressing the tone in her words. “Can you help find Dad and _Mamie? Maman_ mentioned she’d be here.” Fleur had absolutely mentioned that Molly would be attending, though Victoire thought it best not to repeat the exact phrasing. “I’d like to sit with you all until we start.” 

After a few minutes, Charlie had found the Weasley family huddled near the Gryffindor tent, a little ways from the southernmost pyre. Victoire had grabbed Philip and handed him his notebook, offering to introduce him to the family. Once they saw their mother, Victoire and Dominique led the way while Philip and Max walked a little behind Charlie. They were holding cherry- and plum-colored ice cream cones, and each other’s hands.

Charlie knew Philip’s uncle pretty well, and introduced the two boys to George, Percy, and Molly. Victoire had been told by George that Teddy and Ron were coming with Ginny’s family and would sneak in a little late, while Arthur was out of the country on business. Bill had come straight to Hogwarts after their portkey and was greeting his wife. Victoire inserted herself into their hug, and Fleur drew in Dominique in short order.

 _“Papa,_ I’m glad you’re here. Professor Longbottom asked me about the trip. This is Philip, and his boyfriend Max. Philip’s applied for an Auror post as well,” Victoire supplied.

“If I’m accepted, of course,’ Philip chimed. He shook Bill’s hand, and smiled warmly. Victoire had seen some men blanch in front of her father, who could still look quite intimidating even to wizards who knew him, but Philip wasn’t the type to judge. “I’ve written a few Defense essays about your book over the years. It’s still one of my favorites.”

Bill’s book, _The White Dawn Curses,_ had been extremely popular in America, so much that the family had moved there when Victoire was very young. Bill had taken a consulting job with America’s Magical Congress for several years, in addition to part-time work with a group of banking companies on the West Coast. He might have been well-known in Britain for being a war hero, but he was internationally recognized as a Curse-Breaker. It didn’t hurt that his face was so distinctive in photographs. Philip owned every edition of the book, and regularly mentioned the fact to Victoire, Max, and anyone else who might listen. 

Bill made eye contact with Victoire for a moment, before she raised an eyebrow at him. Her and her father had had a few long conversations over the years, too.

“Hullo, Philip. It’s still one of mine, too,” he said, grinning and offering his hand. It occurred to Victoire that her _Papa_ could be described as looking wolfish a lot of the time, but he certainly didn’t try very hard not to. “How are you coming along?”

Philip shook the hand offered to him before side-eyeing Victoire. “I’m not sure, Mr. Weasley. I wondered if Victoire could look over my schedule, but we haven’t gotten around to it this week. I thought we might have time before the ceremony...” he trailed off. Victoire almost replied, but Bill was faster.

“Do you have your calendar with you? We could all take a look right now, if you like. I had offered to do as much with hers this weekend, but there’s no time like now.”

After Max left to find his family and the rest of the Weasleys started to settle, the three of them found some space nearby and laid out their notebooks. The sun had just started to set and people were arriving in droves, including the Hogwarts teachers, who had begun corralling people into open areas. Professor Longbottom and the Headmaster hadn’t arrived yet.

Victoire pulled out her letter from the Ministry, and showed it to Bill and Philip. 

_Dear Ms. Victoire Weasley,_

_We have received your application for the Auror Trainee position, pending acceptance by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and have intelligence on file regarding your attendance and standing at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

_Enclosed is a list of requirements you must complete in order for the Ministry of Magic to accept your application. Upon completion of these requirements, we will contact you with our decision, or for additional information and scheduling._

_Hoping you are well,_

_Sophie Hynes_

_Assistant Undersecretary to the_ _  
_ _Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement_ _  
_ _Ministry of Magic, London_

“Mine looks just the same,” Philip noted. “Though I think the list they gave me is longer than yours. Did you finish your Side-Along training?”

Victoire nodded. She had accompanied an Auror for the required six sessions of Side-Along orientation at the Ministry earlier that year. She had done five of the sessions with Uncle Harry, and it had been quite an experience. They hadn’t left Ministry premises or done any field work, though. 

Her sixth session had been with a randomly assigned Auror through Hogwarts’ official internship program, which was a requirement. She had been paired with an older woman named Sweydyr, who hadn’t talked to her much. They had supervised a legal proceeding before the Wizengamot, and a door-to-door call on the continent to visit three areas of interest, but it had been a pretty textbook day. Victoire had been happy to get away from the woman, afterward. Something about her was unsettling.

“I still have two sessions to do this summer,” Philip was saying. “My uncle scheduled them with a friend of his for me, but they keep getting moved back. Can I take a look at your req’s?” Bill handed him the second letter.

 _REQUIREMENTS FOR APPLICATION_ _  
_ _AUROR TRAINEE POSITION_

_Ms. Victoire Weasley_

_Minimum Five N.E.W.T.s, including:_ _  
_ _Potions, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Charms_ _  
_ _Note exam results must be of Exceeds Expectations or higher to qualify._

 _Three Eight Hour Courses: Hit Wizard Crash Course 1, 2, and 3_ _  
_ _Available for registration in July, August, September, December, February, June._

 _Hit Wizard Theoretical Examination_ _  
_ _Hit Wizard Physical Examination_ _  
_ _Hit Wizard Practical Examination_ _  
_ _Hit Wizard Personality Evaluation_ _  
_ _Available for registration in August, October, December, February, April._

 _Ability to Brew the Following Potions to Ministry Standards_ _  
_ _Including safety procedures in handling all ingredients. To be tested prior to Indoctrination._ _  
_ _Calming Draught_ _  
_ _Eyl’s Elixir aka “Fed & Watered Potion” _ _  
_ _Pepper-Up Potion_ _  
_ _Draught of Living Death_ _  
_ _Polyjuice Potion (Pre-Brew Only)_ _  
_ _Gyge’s Drop Serum_

 _Entrance Essays in the following Disciplines_ _  
_ _Prompts to be delivered upon receipt of acceptable N.E.W.T results._ _  
_ _Potions_ _  
_ _Wizarding Law_ _  
_ _Dueling_ _  
_ _Magical Concealment_ _  
_ _Magical Tracing Theory_

 _Assigned Reading_ _  
_ _All books are assumed to be read and understood by all applicants upon Indoctrination._ _  
_ _Generall Historie of Magickal Plantes – John Gerard_ _  
_ _Potioneering for A Better Society – Damocles Belby_ _  
_ _Statutes, Secrets, and Monolithic Implieds – Alexandre Sartzche_ _  
_ _Unforgivable – Hermione Granger & Neville Longbottom _ _  
_ _Transfigurative Defenses – Roger Otxoa_ _  
_ _Battle Magic in the Modern Era – Vinda Rosier_ _  
_ _Jupiter’s Forms and Other Transfiguration Theorems – Timothie Tyons_ _  
_ _Arithmantic Warding in Dwellings – Hermione Granger & Ronald Weasley _ _  
_ _Dark Creatures and How to Fight Them – Mandoline Inman_ _  
_ _The White Dawn Curses – William Weasley_ _  
_ _Magical Transport Through The Decades – Hoopy H. Harper_ _  
_ _Mental Acuity in Law Enforcement – Hermione Granger_ _  
_ _Resistance at the Core – Selma & David Agnon _ _  
_ _Layered Aggression: An Auror’s Warning – Anonymous_

 _Auror Personality Evaluation_ _  
_ _By invitation only._

 _Six Weeks Auror Academy Training_ _  
_ _Available upon Acceptance for registration in October._

“Yea, looks like mine,” Philip said. “Only I have to finish my Side-Alongs and submit that last form for the History Check. My cousin still hasn’t signed off on whether she was at my eleventh birthday party...” he trailed off, before recovering. “So. Piece of cake, right?”

Bill, Philip, and Victoire spent half an hour going over their schedules. Victoire wanted to get all of her Potions requirements done before the end of July, since two of the potions took a week to brew, and some of the ingredients had to be handled in controlled environments. She had asked Uncle Ron if she could spend a while at their house in London, but they were waiting until the second half of the month so they could go to the Youth Dueling finals together. 

Philip was going to wait until the start of August to start his Potions practice. He said he didn’t want to spend the Galleons on ingredients if he didn’t get the N.E.W.T. scores he needed, and Victoire took a moment to consider that. She had never had to worry about money growing up, so hearing any of her classmates mention budgeting to her was sometimes a sobering experience, depending on her mood. She decided Philip’s approach was clever, though she still thought it best to get started early, in her case. 

All of the Hit Wizard requirements were straightforward enough. Victoire had been conditioning herself physically for over a year, and didn’t anticipate any problems with the courses, examinations or evaluations at that stage. She had already registered for them the first week of August. If her N.E.W.T. grades came back adequate, she’d automatically be enrolled, and could hopefully finish them all within a week. Hit Wizards didn’t have nearly the same level of demands on them that Auror candidates did, so she had largely shrugged at those requirements. She felt a little background anxiety, especially about the practical exam, but it wasn’t anything she couldn’t handle. 

There was nothing either of them could do about the entrance essays until they received their prompts, and the Auror-specific Evaluation and Academy training didn’t require any preparation, though Victoire had heard a few horror stories about that six weeks. A problem for the future, she reasoned.

The real trick was the reading list. 

Victoire was no stranger to revising or to reading textbooks. These weren’t ordinary schoolbooks, though, and the truth was she was glad a lot of them had been written by family members and close family friends. She had thumbed through some of these books over the last year, and had read a couple of them before submitting her application. They were without exception very in-depth handbooks. 

Each book detailed advanced concepts, and required understanding whole chapters of data ranging in minute detail, from poisonous plants found in Britain that would kill a witch in a moment if it was misidentified to advanced magical theory about using Transfiguration in combat, which Victoire really couldn’t imagine being any more dangerous than it already was. She knew she couldn’t just read through all of the books and expect to pass tests on all of them, let alone to demonstrate mastery over some of the concepts they explored.

Philip, to his credit, had also taken the reading list seriously. He had scheduled time at the magical side of Oxford for research, had sent letters to several publications and academic organizations about scheduling extracurricular tutoring or for detailed help understanding certain concepts that had come up in the books Philip had begun reading, and had even joined a local Dueling Club. Philip had always excelled at theoretical exams but, like Victoire, thought he could improve on the practical side. 

Victoire, on the other hand, had reached out to her family and their friends. 

She had decided to start reading the books on her list concurrently with studying for her Hogwarts exams, and was more than halfway through the list already, at least for a once-over. She planned to finish them in July alongside her Potions work, and had detailed notes and schedules set aside, with her mother’s help, to get through them at a measured pace. She had written letters to all of the authors on the page who she knew how to reach, and had scheduled afternoon meetings with everyone from her Potions professor at Hogwarts to several members of the Order of the Phoenix, Dumbledore’s Army, and the Westphalian Council back in America, who had been instrumental in the defeat over Grindelwald over 70 years earlier. 

Bill had ties to the Magical Congress, but didn’t have very good things to say about them recently. Over the past year, he had suggested his daughter reach out to the Council instead, and had introduced her to a few of his contacts by way of portkey letters, owl post, and the occasional meeting in Diagon Alley or Paris. Since receiving her reading list earlier this month, she had reached out to anyone she had had good information from, and had at least ten interviews scheduled over as many weeks. 

With any luck, she’d be the best prepared Auror Trainee recruit in recent memory by October 1st. If anything could help her get a firm grasp of the material to pull it off, she hoped her plan would be it. The three of them decided to schedule a group session mid-August for some dueling practice, and to double check any part of the requirement list that was proving hard to complete. Victoire asked Philip to join her in a couple of her meetings later in the month, to which he agreed. When Molly started to nag them about the Ceremony beginning, they put their notebooks away and started to walk toward the top of the hill.

The sun was nearly set, and Professor Longbottom had led the Headmistress to the dais. The moment the sun disappeared under the horizon, the Thunderfire pyres flared higher, and the ritual began.


	3. Graduation

In a thousand years of changing times, the Graduation Ceremony at Hogwarts had gone through several alterations. Every version of it, to one degree or another, represented a transition from childhood to a life and a future full of responsibility. Witches and wizards were some of the most powerful and influential people on Earth, and there was magic in how they moved between phases of their lives, as in everything. 

Since the War, Hogwarts had not been an island in the sea of magical dwellings in Britain so much as a landmark, and sometimes a lighthouse, of hope and learning. Today, Hogwarts was incredibly involved in governmental proceedings. The current Headmistress, though a skilled witch no doubt, was not Albus Dumbledore. Minister Shacklebolt, prior to his retirement, had entwined Hogwarts in current affairs and Ministry business in a way it hadn’t been in the years before the fall of Voldemort. Shacklebolt had made it clear that the future of Magical Britain was also the future of the school, and had even been buried on the grounds near the War Memorial. A memorial of his own had been unveiled last month, honoring his dedication to Magical Society, and to Hogwarts, throughout his life. 

Gone were the days when graduates would sail across the lake and leave the castle behind as they became qualified witches and wizards; it had been a poetic gesture, with magic in it, too, but these days called for new traditions and a view toward the future. For as long as Victoire had been a student, the Graduation Ceremony had been a Bonding ritual. The four great tents near the lake represented the shelter of the four houses that students were raised and taught in, while coming together on the dais under the stars provoked a sense of undoing the Sorting and bringing together the students as one. The idea was, once the Bond was provoked by the ritual, all of the graduates would be forever linked, however distantly, by their shared experiences prepared over their years at Hogwarts. 

The ritual was controversial. Theories about Bonding rituals varied wildly. Some of the books Victoire had read referenced them in context with everything from werewolf mating to the Dark Mark, and a lot of the magic involved was esoteric and hard to predict. At least a few students every year opted out of the Ceremony, or were forced not to attend by their families, and Bill had had a lot to say about the subject, when the Ceremony was changed. 

There were rumors that the ritual affected witches and wizards irreversibly, though Uncle Harry admitted that was sort of the point, and had mentioned some wizards noticing a visible strengthening in certain parts of their magic afterward. Bonds were more common amongst the most ancient family houses than in the lives of an average wizard, and could be linked to some of the opinions about pure blood. Since both wars in recent history revolved around these things, magic like Bonding was further radicalized.

“Bonds can be present whether provoked by ritual or not,” Harry had reasoned one night over dinner. “Dumbledore’s time teaching Tom Riddle had prepared a Bond, and he used it at least twice that I know of to trace Riddle’s magic.” Harry’s argument, which was common enough, was that Hogwarts students and their teachers had always been Bonded together in one way or another, and that the ritual itself wasn’t the sole cause for it. 

Victoire had been to three Graduation Ceremonies before her own. Instead of the Thunderfire pyres, Teddy’s Graduation had used large wooden barrels and a magically conjured rainstorm to brew a potion with the students’ magical signatures.

“Those pyres really are impressive,” Philip had told the group before the sun set. “Professor Nabier was talking about them after he came back from South America. The teachers have to mix our signatures with ingredients from the ground, the ocean, and the atmosphere in order to provoke the Bond. Do you remember those big clay cauldrons second year, Victoire?”

Victoire had nodded delicately. The teachers had used seaweed and clay fired in Dragon’s breath to make thick cauldrons that year. She remembered big smoky contrails pluming into the air, and the smell of salt mixed with something coppery. “The dais ritual took over an hour, while the smoke burned off,” she added.

“That’s right,” Philip had agreed. Dominique had asked what the students’ signatures were, and Philip addressed her, “we don’t know, really. All of the Professors are involved in casting a spell and preparing the potions, but it’s apparently something private to them and their experiences teaching us. They didn’t ask us to provide hair or… or to sign any parchment, or anything. The pyres sort of do everything at once, though. I suppose the teachers got impatient with how long the ritual used to take, or else tired of preparing so many different things. Thunderfire tinder has a ton of magical properties,” Philip listed off a few of them, but Dominique didn’t seem to be interested, and he stopped after a moment.

“I’ve come across some of it in different places,” Charlie had chimed in. “It’s rare to actually see ball lightning, but it happens all over the world. There are Dragons who have trouble with their glands that use other materials to keep their eggs warm, so you’ll find it in lairs sometimes. Hagrid told me about the places they went to in Venezuela and Brazil. Asked if I’d like to go back with him, sometime,” he had growled out a laugh. “I assume the pyres are likened back to some of the old-school ways of brewing potions, before cauldrons were regulated, eh Phillip?” 

“Exactly, Mr. Weasley,” Phillip had stated. “All of the elemental ingredients are blended and used to build the stack, our signatures are added, and the tinder lights itself when its magic is engaged. Something about the Thunderfire or… or ball lightning, you said? It catalyzes the whole mixture and burns luminescent. I’ve heard it’s as bright as Fiendfyre, though it doesn’t reach those high temperatures.”

Victoire and Philip took the last few steps to the dais and climbed up together. Victoire had let her hair down on the way over, shaking it out slightly. It never seemed to get into her eyes anymore, though she hadn’t done more than style it occasionally since her first year. It had mostly stopped growing fifth year and always fell exactly how she wanted it, but she tended to wear it in a tail while at school. Prior to her tenth birthday it had constantly been a problem, getting tangled or growing ten centimeters overnight if she tried to cut it. It had also been pale silver, though it had turned platinum before she ever went to Hogwarts. 

Victoire didn’t miss the experience. She was never exactly bullied as a girl, but had overheard children at school in California talking about how she had ‘old lady’ hair. She overheard quite a bit of things she hadn’t been supposed to, as it happens, for one reason or another. Her English had been perfect since she was a toddler, but people always seemed to think a girl who preferred speaking French was slow, or else hard of hearing. Even other wizards, she recalled.

Philip and Victoire helped a few other students raise themselves onto the edge of the dais. All the teachers – fifteen, this year – were standing in a semi-circle around the altar in the center of the stage. A few of them, both Professors Longbottom included, were holding hands. The dark robes they wore were very simple, almost form-fitting, and made from a semi-reflective material. They all must have been wearing a second set under their dress robes, which were nowhere to be seen. Some of them had wands drawn and were chanting quietly. A much smaller, unlit pyre had been erected among them atop the wooden table. Victoire could see a small stone base below the pyre, presumably for the ash and to keep the table from burning. 

The crowd around had quieted and the teachers’ chanting grew louder. Not all of them were speaking, but Victoire could feel some kind of energy, almost like a wind, blowing around the dais. The graduating class was shoulder to shoulder, facing the teachers and mostly wearing dress robes. They stood in ranks, randomly interspersed. It was tradition to wear unmarked robes, save for the Hogwarts crest, and not acceptable to break tradition in this case. No witch or wizard wore house colors or regalia to the ceremony, in honor of one united student body. 

The Headmistress stood a little apart from the other teachers, directly in front of the altar. She supported herself with a short staff, gnarled and crooked, that looked like it was as much iron as wood. The top was adorned with an ugly bulb of knotted wood, which she looked to be grasping tightly. Her eyes were closed, under the Sorting Hat. 

Victoire was staring at the hat when the teachers stopped chanting. They didn’t stop all of a sudden, but they slowly reached the end of whatever they were speaking, and one-by-one grew silent. Victoire could feel the magic of the ritual still moving lightly around her feet as the Headmistress reached her right hand to the side. Wandlessly, wordlessly, she lit the pyre on the table, which immediately grew bright. The pyres all around the hilltop flickered and grew bright, too, flames licking higher and setting off silent sparks and spirals of smoke you might just make out in the reflected light of the flames. 

Victoire could feel the light of the small pyre drawing her attention, but she stayed focused on the hat, unblinking. She hadn’t ever asked who exactly had implemented the current Graduation ritual, but she had a strong feeling her uncle Harry had suggested this next part. It always surprised her, though she was years past being aplomb at the idea. To a second year student, though, it had been unsettling.

With her right hand, the Headmistress unceremoniously took off the Sorting Hat and shoveled it into the fire. Nothing special happened, it just burned. The pyre cracked and shined as if nothing had changed from the moment before. 

Philip was the expert on this kind of thing, but Victoire knew enough about ritual magic as a seventh year to know the subtlety of the act was part of its power. The teachers and the Headmistress turned away from the pyre, still burning, and faced the altar, closing into a tight circle around it. Victoire was right up front in the ranks of graduates, but couldn’t make out anything in the circle other than a few teachers silently making wand movements. As all the pyres, except the one on the table, quickly burned out, the wind at their feet stopped. Victoire tried to pay attention to her person and her magic as they did so, but she didn’t feel any different. She felt warm and comfortable, but nothing about the Bond felt like anything to her, as the spell ended. After a moment, the teachers reformed their semi-circle, and saluted their students. 

Philip and Victoire saluted back, and bowed. Her eyes caught Professor Flitwick’s in the firelight. He gave her a small smile, which she returned. The witches and wizards watching the Ceremony began clapping, one of Victoire’s classmates shook her hand, and everyone exchanged congratulations. Then, that was that. 


	4. First Blood

Victoire and her parents met up with the rest of the family after the Ceremony, and everyone went to the Burrow for a late supper. Molly loved when the family visited, and she seemed more insistent about it whenever Grandpa Weasley was missing. Fleur’s mother had died before Victoire had been born, and Victoire had sometimes come back to England for the summer, to stay at the Burrow with _Mamie._ She helped with the tea while everyone else settled and chatted about the Ceremony.

Louis, Victoire’s younger brother, was asking about the Sorting Hat. “What will they do next year to sort kids into houses?” he asked in the general direction of the adults.

“The hat didn’t really burn up, dear,” Ginny said. “It always ends up back in the Headmistress’ office after the Ceremony. It’s never… good as new, perhaps. But the burning is just part of the ritual. It’s supposed to show that the houses aren’t as important after students leave school.” 

Louis asked a few more questions before falling silent, lost in thought. He hadn’t come to any of the Graduation Ceremonies for family members in the past, for one reason or another. He wasn’t a slow child, but it was hard to teach him things by explanation alone. He preferred to see things with his own eyes before wrapping his head around them. If she was honest, Victoire envied her brother a little. 

Louis was an excellent study when it came to games or athletic achievement, and had even given Uncle Ron a run for his Sickles at chess by the time he had the proper patience for the game. Before they had returned to England, Louis had been heavily involved in a muggle gymnastics gym, and had tried to teach both of his sisters to surf, with disastrous results. Victoire wouldn’t ever give up her library, but she admitted it had been much simpler for Louise moving across continents than it had been for her. Between Bill and Victoire, the books alone had taken some fancy wandwork by her mother to get home with. 

Seated at the table in the Burrow’s magically enlarged kitchen were Harry, Ginny, their daughter Lily, Louis and Dominique, Bill and Fleur, Charlie, and Percy. Percy was on his way out and was just staying for tea, as his wife and children were staying in Paris and he wanted to meet them before bedtime. 

Charlie was staying with Molly, now that he was back from America, until Arthur returned. Ginny had dropped off their other children at a couple friends’ houses on her way to the Burrow. Harry had come with Lily and Ron and met the family there; all three of them had skipped the Ceremony altogether, Victoire realized. 

Uncle Ron and Teddy had gone up into the attic to look at something. Teddy had started to tell Victoire about it when she met him after the ritual, but she had had other ideas and they hadn’t had time to properly debrief. Verbally, at least. They had Apparated to the Burrow after a quick stop at Teddy’s grandmother’s. 

“We thought we’d spend a few weeks at Shell Cottage, Mum,” Bill was saying to Molly. “Dominique and Louis can come back to London once Victoire heads to Ron’s, but I promise we’ll stop by next Wednesday for tea and take them back for a few hours before Dad gets here.” 

Victoire had asked her parents if they could spend the summer at their cottage, while she studied. It’d be a lot easier to focus on everything if she was away from London, where they had a large apartment. Privately, she also thought being further away from Teddy might be good for her. She couldn’t afford to be distracted. 

“Too often, anyway,” she murmured to herself after a moment of reflection. 

They were all going to spend the night at the Burrow, and head out in the morning after breakfast. Teddy would sleep with Louis in the tower room, while Dominique, Victoire, and Lily would take the balcony bedroom. Harry and Ginny would go home for the night, but come back for breakfast. 

Once they were through with tea, Molly and Lily served out soup bowls, fresh French bread, and some pudding. Victoire thanked her _Mamie_ for the soup, which really was fantastic for plain chicken broth and vegetables. The day had taken more out of her than she would have guessed, and a small holdover before bed was welcome. She stayed up with a few of her uncles after everyone else had gone to bed, and toasted a small glass of firewhisky with them.

“Congratulations, Victoire. To happy futures,” Harry said, raising his glass.

“And to the present,” Ron finished, “before it shall fail.”

Charlie raised his glass, full of water instead of liquor, and clanged it loudly against Victoire’s glass. 

They all sipped a little, and sat back down on a few mismatched recliners near an off-center fireplace in one of the ground rooms. 

“How do you feel, Blondie?” Charlie asked her, sipping his water again. 

“I feel fine, _Oncle._ Tired, and surprised that I am.” 

“It’s a pretty powerful ritual you all went through tonight,” Ron said. “I know it doesn’t feel like much, but it’s no less of a deal with the short timeframe as it used to be. I’m just happy it wasn’t so boring as before. Bonds are finicky. They’re really a thing, though.”

Harry nodded, but didn’t chime in. He was looking over into the fire, running his hand through his hair idly. He looked more relaxed than Victoire normally saw him. She felt a surge of pride. Fleur had mentioned to her and Dominique in a letter that Harry might not come to the Ceremony, but he was here with family to support her, and she knew he was completely behind her application to become an Auror. In fact, she thought it might have been his idea, in those early conversations he had had with her about what she might do after Hogwarts. 

After a few moments, Ron addressed her. “So, Victoire, what’s first? Harry and I thought you might want to do a little dueling tomorrow morning. Bill was crystal clear about your taking this seriously, and there’s no time like now to get started, eh?”

Victoire was caught a little off guard by this. She and Ron had had conversations for ages about dueling, and he was one of the biggest fans of the competitive circuit that had cropped up in the last ten years. He always had tickets and made sure to owl Victoire about matches on weekends when she could leave Hogwarts and come with him, and they went to at least one official match every summer together. 

However, Harry had never so much as pulled his wand for more than household charms in front of Victoire, and was one of those Aurors that tried to catch dark wizards from his tiny Ministry office by looking for patterns and clues. He had caught more than any Auror in twenty years had, so she hadn’t found much to complain about during her Side-Alongs. 

A small part of her mind reminded her she was a theoretical witch more than a practical one, too. 

“Oh, that would be extraordinary, Uncle Ron. Uncle Harry, would you mind?”

Harry smiled at her immediately. “I think it’s time Ron and I taught you a few things, sure. Who knows, maybe you’ll teach us a few, too.” 

“Oi, I’m interested,” Charlie added. “How do you feel about a little tournament? It’d be nice to show Ron he’ll always be _ickle_ brother,” he set his glass down and pulled a short, plump cigar from his robes. He sat back and chewed on the cigar a little, not lighting it. 

“You’re welcome too, Charlie,” Harry said. “I think we could all use a little competition, now and then. Victoire, why don’t you skip your run in the morning, and meet Ron and I in the gardens at dawn. Bring a cloak, it’ll be chilly.”

“You might not want to skip your run, Charlie,” Ron quipped. “You’re getting pudgy. It wouldn’t bloody hurt to stop smoking those so much, either.”

Victoire thought that was a little tactless of Ron, but she just smiled and sipped her drink. Blishen’s Firewhisky was what Ron always drank. He said it was spicy enough to make you want a second glass, and also to not want a third. Victoire didn’t drink liquor often; Fleur had told her years ago to not waste her time sneaking it, as it was almost impossible to get a Veela drunk on alcohol. Even Victoire, with only a sliver of Veela blood, was probably not ever going to need to vanish away a night’s drinking the following morning the way Uncle Charlie described it in his stories. 

“Calm down, Ronnie,” Charlie shot back. “I did quit smoking them, thanks much. Doesn’t mean I don’t like to kiss one here and there. You wouldn’t understand.” He gave Ron a nasty smile and refilled his glass with water from his wand. 

Victoire finished her glass after a few minutes, and rose to leave for bed. She brushed Ron’s hand on the way out, kissed Harry’s and Charlie’s cheeks goodnight, and crouched to pet the calico cat, Cali, that had come to claim the room. Arthur had gotten her as a kitten, a gift from Bill and Fleur from California, and had been over the moon naming her. Ginny approved, but no one else had. 

Lily was asleep when Victoire reached the balcony room, after a quick freshen-up. The Burrow didn’t have showers, nor electrical outlets. Arthur would have installed them years ago, but _Mamie_ had nixed that idea quick enough, and Victoire wasn’t entirely sure they would have worked very well. The structural integrity of the sprawling building wouldn’t have supported anything like a real muggle plumbing system, and the magic throughout the house would have shorted any circuits they had tried to install, anyway. The Weasleys had grown up with several large claw-foot bathtubs, save for the master bathroom, where a whole room opened up into a bath basin large enough for Teddy’s old Quidditch team to have gone swimming. 

Victoire didn’t mind. She had grown up with a fair appreciation for muggles and a lot more exposure than a majority of the generation before her had had, but magically harvested water wells, EverWax candles and self-refilling oil lamps served just as well. Even now, Shell Cottage barely had amenities, and was far more rustic than the Burrow, and it was one of Victoire’s favorite places in the world. 

She laid down on the bed made up for her, comfortable instantly. The Burrow didn’t have modern mattresses either, and every bed was a little different from the rest. Bill had told her as a child that this one had been stuffed with Hippogriff feathers when Harry, Ron and Hermione had stayed at one of Harry’s uncle’s houses in London for a while. Ever since, when Victoire stayed at the Burrow, she found the bed waiting for her in whatever room she was assigned. It had gotten bigger, she noted, since last time. She fell asleep quickly, and did not dream.

Early next morning, Fleur woke Victoire. _“Bonjour, ma poulette. Reveille-toi avec un sourire, chéri.”_ Fleur was just as practiced in long-term training as her husband. They had both been active members of the Order of the Phoenix during the war, and Fleur had been up every morning at dawn for weight training with the Beauxbatons delegation during the Triwizard Tournament. As her school’s champion, she had had to lead them all in their exercises and wandwork, and was not averse to long days. Both Bill and Fleur had agreed to help Victoire this summer, and she knew her parents didn’t just mean giving her house room in their vacation home. 

_“Bonjour, Maman,”_ Victoire sat up and hugged her mother. She never felt groggy in the mornings, and didn’t have the bullfrog in her throat that she had had as a girl, first waking up. She still disliked waking early, though, and was relieved for the tea and fruit Fleur had brought. 

Lily was awake, it seemed. Victoire assumed she was downstairs with her Gran, starting breakfast. Fleur probably sent her, Victoire mused, to keep a little distance between the two matriarchs. 

They spoke for a moment, and Victoire quickly explained the morning itinerary Ron had suggested. Fleur planned to help Dominique and Louis settle and would not be joining to watch the dueling, but encouraged the idea. 

Victoire had a quick hug and a word with Molly before walking into the yard. She found Ron sitting in the pre-dawn on a garden wall with Luna Lovegood-Scamander, who stood up and smiled lightly at Victoire.

“Hello, Victoire,” Luna said, walking up to embrace the young woman with both arms and kissing her cheeks. “Congratulations on Graduation. You look happier.” Victoire knew Luna spoke perfect French, but rarely spoke it. She had always wondered why. 

“Thank you, Luna,” Victoire said sweetly, returning the embrace. She stepped back after a few seconds, smiled at Ron, and turned back to Luna. “I’m charmed to see you! Are you going to join us in dueling today?” 

“Oh, no. Ron asked, of course, but I think I’ll just watch,” Luna said airily. “I hope you won’t mind, Victoire.”

“Of course not,” she said immediately. “You’re completely welcome. How is your family?”

“Oh, they’re alright,” Luna replied, appearing to consider the question before answering. “Lorcan has been having night terrors, recently. I believe he was uncomfortable telling me, but I’m glad he did. I still have troubled dreams, too. We all manage as best we can, though, don’t we?” 

Victoire smiled at Luna. She appreciated the woman quite a bit, and Harry had always said his best stories were the ones where Luna was with him. Victoire thought she knew why. “We do,” she replied, as Ron walked up to the two of them.

“Sleep okay, Victoire?” he asked. “Charlie said he won’t leave the house without any food, so he’ll be along in a minute, if Mum doesn’t skin him for bacon for nicking sausages before they’re ready.” Victoire nodded. “Harry should be along, too,” Ron continued, “but since they’re both running late, I thought I’d go and see if Luna was awake yet. Didn’t get past the river before I found her. She’s got quite the set of hexes in her, you know.”

Luna didn’t acknowledge this, but sat back down on the garden wall and watched the sun rise, her wand laying a few feet from her on the stones.

Victoire took off her cloak and walked back and forth through the gardens as the sky lightened a little. Harry had been right, it was a little cool outside, but she had gone running around the lake even through winter and had had much colder mornings than this. Charlie joined her after a few minutes, and pointed out some of the herbs Molly had planted since he’d last been to stay. He kept mixing up the names of some of them, and asking Victoire which was which. After the third time, she wondered if he was teasing. It occurred to her he might be testing her, too. 

Ron sat with Luna, nursing a cup of tea Molly had brought before returning inside to finish breakfast. The children, other than Lily, hadn’t come down yet. 

A minute or so before the sun had fully cleared the horizon, Harry and Ginny Apparated into the gardens. Ginny gave Victoire and Charlie big hugs before excusing herself into the house. Harry joined Ron and Luna after saying good morning to the group. He was wearing a heavy cloak and a tweed hat, and also seemed to be wearing trainers. They were all-black, and looked brand new. They clashed a little with his short gray robes, which looked like standard Auror attire, worn fairly tight with a thick leather belt.

Ron’s muggle clothing covered his arms and legs, but he wore a duelling holster on his left forearm. He had on muggle-made leather boots that rose to his mid-shin, without laces, with a black fabric rise. Charlie, like Victoire, was wearing simple house robes, with a black pullover sweater on. Both of them had had the forethought to wear sensible shoes for dueling, though. 

“Alright, Victoire,” Harry started. “This is your show, so if there’s anything you want to go over, just name it,” he led them out into the garden with Ron and Luna in tow. Charlie and Victoire followed them. Victoire stopped to grab her cloak on the way, though she kept it over her arm. “Ron and I only discussed it briefly, but we thought it might be helpful for you to see some of the dueling exercises we did in Auror Training ourselves, such as ours was.”

“Yea, though that was a bit of a joke, in our case,” Ron added. Dumbledore’s Army had all been offered Junior Auror positions after the War, and the witches and wizards who took the Ministry up on their offer had been fast-tracked. They all still had to pass Ministry standards though, which was twenty weeks of courses. Normally, Auror Trainees who graduated from Hogwarts went through at least two years of work before starting that training, and most took the full three years to pass muster. Philip had spoken with her about it briefly, but Victoire wasn’t actually sure what it all entailed. She assumed she’d find out soon enough, if all went well.

After a few minutes, Harry and Ron led them to a tiny Quidditch pitch with only three hoops at the edge of the gardens. Harry conjured a few simple outdoor stools and a small table where they put their teacups, a few conjured water glasses, and two small clock timers with five small folded flags apiece that Harry had in his cloak. Luna sat on one of the stools and placed her wand on the table. Charlie took off his sweater, put it down on a stool, and sat on top of it. Victoire did the same with her cloak, but stayed standing.

Harry walked out a few paces and Ron followed him. Ron started talking to Victoire, and she was reminded of Professor Longbottom’s ‘official’ voice. She smiled at the idea, and went to follow the two of them, but Charlie held her arm. He gestured for her to sit on her stool for now. 

“A Wizard’s Duel isn’t really what the Auror Trainers will teach you, Victoire,” Ron said. “Your job as an Auror isn’t to go picking fights with dark witches or wizards and, frankly, if anyone ever challenges you to one you’re going to be at a disadvantage just by accepting it.”

“Which you should _never_ do,” Harry added.

“Right,” Ron continued. “The way Aurors train isn’t really the same as the dueling leagues, but it’s still helpful to know the basic guidelines when you’re starting out. The Trainee tournaments follow dueling rules, just because they don’t expect you to really know what you’re doing the first couple years, and the safety risk isn’t worth it to make you follow new rules before you’re comfortable with, uh...”

“The Auror lifestyle,” Harry finished for him. “For now, Ron and I will just go back and forth, and you can ask questions if you have any.”

Ron and Harry both pulled their wands, and took a few steps backward. Victoire noticed they were still fairly close to each other. Most duels started with several yards between the two participants, as many as forty paces. Harry and Ron were less than ten from each other. 

The two wizards both bowed, not taking their eyes off each other, and gripped their wands. Ron held his wand in fourth position, dropping it to a low guard a little below his waist, but Harry simply held his wand aloft, palm down and loose, a little to the right. 

Ron started, stepping forward. A wordless Stunner shot from his wand at Harry. Harry, at the same time, raised his wand to chest height and dragged it across, tip tilted down in front of his belly, casting a wordless Shield charm. Victoire couldn’t see the barrier, but she could see the dew in the air push outwards in an arc around Harry to stop the Stunner and deflect it off to his left, where it hit the ground several yards away. 

Ron took another step forward and shot another Stunner, aiming for Harry’s face. Harry took a step back and to the left, maintaining his Shield and raising his wand to block the spell, which hit the Shield dead-on and bounced back at Ron, who flicked it away with his wand. The Stunner, now rebounded twice, struck the dirt near his feet. Ron was already moving, taking another step toward Harry. He shot a Stunner, then another, moving his wand in small circles and jabbing them forward in time with each step, and Harry slowly circled around and to the left. After five steps, Ron shifted his stance and brought his wand to a high guard, while Harry moved his wand in the same small rectangle he had been drawing in front of his body. Wand across, step back and left, wand up, step back and left, across, step, down, step, across, step, until they had shifted forty or fifty degrees off-center, Harry still deflecting all of Ron’s Stunners, occasionally right back at him. 

Once Ron had shifted his weight and raised his wand, Harry started on him, shooting short yellow spears of light at Ron. Victoire thought he was aiming for Ron’s shoulders or neck, and she noticed Harry was taking quick half-steps toward Ron, crouching his legs and moving forward almost like in a crab walk, rather than with long strides the way Ron had. Ron took a step backwards for every two or three half-steps Harry took, and seemed to be deflecting the spells with small blue-white sparks from his own wand, rather than casting Shields. After four deflections, one of Harry’s attacks got through, and Ron’s wand flew out of his hand to Harry, who caught it. Victoire noticed that Ron was further back from where he had started, and Harry was almost right on top of him.

Harry handed Ron his wand, and looked over to Victoire. He raised an eyebrow, and Ron shrugged. “What do you think?” Harry asked her.

Victoire was thinking quite a bit, actually. The duel had lasted only a minute or two, and clearly the two of them were just sparring; it wasn’t quite like the duels she was used to, and not just because it had been completely nonverbal. 

Charlie saved her. “Um, why don’t you explain what we just saw, Harry,” he suggested, shifting a little on his stool and crossing his arms. He sat back a little and continued, “it looks like you just snuck up on Ronnie right under his nose, while he was flicking spells at you, but is this really something Victoire can expect is going to happen in the real world?” 

Harry gave a small smile. “Maybe not. But it’s a good lesson. Victoire, did you notice my footwork?” She nodded. “Good. And what I was doing with my wand? A lot of the dueling books at Hogwarts call that Shield-Maging, which is just a bookworm’s way of saying _‘Protego_ is a really useful spell in a duel, if you can sustain it even while you’re moving.’ I focused the spell a little, though, so that it was localized to certain parts of my body. That’s how I was able to deflect Ron’s spells back at him, rather than like a normal Shield charm.”

“And your circling was to keep him from gaining any ground on you, Harry?” Victoire asked.

“Very good, yes. He can stomp up and down the pitch at me all day, but if I offset his advance he’ll never gain momentum and will hardly gain any distance on me, even with those long legs.” 

“On a pitch, maybe,” Ron said. “I’d outpace you in a long fight if all you did was take little steps like that.”

“Maybe,” Harry admitted. “But I was able to gain on you while keeping my balance, and that’s not nothing.

“What spell was that, Harry? I’ve never seen _Expelliarmus_ form a beam before,” Charlie asked. “Another one of your and Hermione’s modifications?”

Harry smiled, apparently impressed. “This isn’t the day to go over spell creation, but yes. It’s a Drilling hex directing an _Expelliarmus_ charm. Harder to aim than a simple Disarm, but might get through a Shield. Ron had to manually deflect each spell, which is why he missed one on the end.”

“Which wouldn’t happen in a real duel so easily,” Ron ribbed. “This is for Victoire’s benefit, this back-and-forth thing.” 

“Sure, Ron, whatever,” Harry said, though he nodded. “Final thing before we move on,” he said, directing back to Victoire. “Shielding and redirecting spells is really what you need to master first. If Stunners are bread-and-butter, a good Shield charm is the spread-knife. Once you’re able to do those two things, spend as much time as you can on footwork, balance, and situational awareness. Ron’s right, a real duel isn’t going to be on a pitch with no obstacles, and you’ll rarely duel a dark witch or wizard who doesn’t have somebody helping him. You need to be vigilant. If someone turns and presents a wand to you, there’s at least one good reason they’ve chosen to fight an Auror, rather than surrender.” 

Harry and Ron both came over and had a glass of water, before returning to the pitch. They stood a little farther apart this time, and raised their wands. Ron again chose a low guard, while Harry kept his wand aloft, out to the side. Victoire noticed he choked up on the wand a little. He was also still wearing his cap and cloak. 

Ron started first again, stamping his feet forward and shooting a stream of what looked like sand at Harry from the tip of his wand. Harry took two rapid steps backward and raised a Shield charm. Victoire still was in awe of how quiet the two of them were. Most duels she had seen started with yelled incantations followed by a lot of heavy breathing. Harry dipped his wand in front of his belly, pointing straight down at the ground in front of him, and whirled it in a spiral. He whispered something, and brought his left hand up, conjuring a small bluebell flame in his palm, while his wand flicked forward after the flourish. Harry brought his free hand down and threw the flames from his palm into the space between the two wizards. The sand coming from Ron’s wand stopped and turned to wood chips, which sparked blue and blew back toward Ron as if Harry had turned the wind against him. 

“That’s clever use of the _Ventus_ charm,” Charlie said to Victoire.

Ron responded, yelping a bit and pulling his outstretched arm out of the flames, drawing his wand sideways across his body, though keeping it pointed in Harry’s direction. He repeated the spell from before, more sand coming from his wand and forming a barrier, almost like an incorporeal Patronus Shield form. It was spiraling around his wrist very quickly, in time with Harry’s wand, which Harry kept twirling. Ron stayed where he was, but stomped his foot again and brought his wand up to guard, still maintaining the shield of earth and dust. A large, ordinary, and very heavy-looking rock formed in front of his wand tip. Harry stopped the _Ventus_ cast and grabbed his tweed hat off his head, pointing his wand at it for a split-second, before directing back in Ron’s direction. Ron’s rock fired off with the sound of a gunshot and speared right for Harry, who blocked it with a large black-iron buckler that was suddenly in his left hand. 

Ron followed up the attack immediately, pointing two silent Stunners and a verbal Leglocker curse at his brother-in-law, taking two steps forward and to the left, trying to get around Harry’s buckler with his second cast. Harry caught the first, _clanging_ against the iron rim, and deflected the second with his wand. He conjured a wide, silent _Protego_ to stop the curse. Harry stumbled when he caught it, his ankle rolling and pitching him backward until he righted himself. Ron took the advantage and sent a third Stunner at Harry, along with a long wooden spike from the end of his wand. 

Victoire thought this last spell was strange, and dangerous. She stood up off her stool as the spike went around Harry’s iron shield, but he was able to get his wand up – flush against his chest – to deflect the Stunner and block the spike. It made a sound like a gong and fell to the ground, vibrating a bit as it landed. Harry spun to his left, his heavy cloak flapping around his shoulders. Ron raised a Shield charm as Harry’s cloak rippled, turning into a flock of ravens. Harry disappeared with a small crack, reappearing behind Ron and shouting _Oppugno!_

Harry’s cloak, now a dozen or more large black birds, attacked Ron from one side as Harry shot a Stunner from the other. Ron stopped the Stunner with his Shield, blasting one of the birds to the ground with a bang and several rust-orange bursts of light. Ron Disapparated before the ravens could get through, dodging a second Stunner from Harry.

Ron reappeared a few feet away, facing Harry and shooting his own Stunner, which ricocheted off the ground near Harry’s feet. Harry shot a long silver stream of light from his wand at Ron, who Disapparated a second time, reappearing again near where Harry had first started the duel. Ron made a motion with his wand like a large U, and the remaining ravens turned to what looked like small pineapples. A few of them popped and smashed to the ground in pieces, while the rest flew at Harry, who Disapparated out of the way, reappearing just a few feet from Ron, behind him. He reached out with his wand and touched Ron on the shoulder with it, and Ron dropped like a sack of bubotubers. 

Charlie and Victoire were both standing, Harry _Reenervating_ Ron and helping him to his feet. Luna walked over to the ground nearby and picked up what Victoire had thought were small pineapples, but instead seemed to be bulbs of Prickly Pear cactus. She recognized them from the deserts in Arizona, and wondered where that idea had come from.

Ron was clearly not in the mood to discuss it. He was rubbing his shoulder and his forehead, which he seemed to have banged on the ground as he fell. He walked away from the four of them and downed a glass of water, looking peaky. 

“Well fought, Ronnie,” Charlie said, Summoning the wooden spike to his hands from Harry’s feet. “This was unexpected,” he added, examining it. The “spike” wasn’t really a spike at all, just a heavy, solid dowel. Victoire noted it was regularly octagonal. It looked like it was hardwood, and maybe a yard long.

“And painful,” Harry added, rubbing his chest. Apparently his wand had stopped the worst of the blow, but not all of it. He took a breath or two before continuing, and joined Ron for a glass of water. He clapped Ron on his good shoulder and turned to Victoire. “Right, well, once you get Shielding and redirection down, you’ll want to spend some time thinking about your strengths. Some wizards have spells they gravitate toward, for one reason or another.”

“Ginny was always very good with the Bat-Bogey hex,” Luna said, levitating one of the cactus bulbs wandlessly and examining it. 

“And Blasting curses,” Harry added. “Love of my life, she is. It’s not always obvious at Hogwarts, especially if you don’t duel that often. Even your most comfortable spells take time to become second-nature for you in combat, and some Aurors take years to figure it out.”

“If they live that long,” Luna said, evenly. Everyone stared at her.

“I noticed Harry had an affinity for Disarming charms long before Remus mentioned it to the Order,” Ron said, breaking the tension. “I always assumed it was a Harry thing, but that first year of Auror training you saw lots of people figuring their style out. I noticed I was pretty good at elemental spells, so most of my Transfiguration focuses on earthy stuff, like rocks and trees. It’s come in handy, too. One of the house calls we had that first year, Parvati and I had to put out a fire while we were dueling a Death Eater who had run to ground. Turns out a sandstorm wasn’t what he bargained for, and none of the neighbors lost their houses. Just some fresh coats of paint and they were alright.”

“Figuring it out isn’t something you need to worry about, Victoire,” Harry said, bringing the conversation back into focus. “You might start thinking about it, though. Real combat isn’t just shooting spells at each other, and once you’re taught to use Transfiguration to fight, the intuitive stuff is what shines through. Turning defenses into offensive, actionable situations is a huge advantage, and you’ll have to be able to do it if you want to…” he paused, and looked at Luna, “live long enough.” 

They all sat down on their stools, sipping from their glasses. Harry summoned the remaining cactus bulbs, which turned back into a much shorter-than-usual cloak, which he vanished. The sun was up now, and Charlie brought up the _Ventus_ charm. 

“I’ve heard of that getting pretty popular with Hit Wizards the last few years, and Ron showed me a few memories in his Pensieve of some of the Dueling Championships where they used it, but I’ve never seen it layered like that before.”

Harry nodded. “Hermione was big on bluebell flames growing up, but Ron and I never really knew what they were until those last few months of the War. She even talked about using it as a stepping stone to Fiendfyre, though none of us were crazy enough to try using that, even against Voldemort. He would have had control over it far better than we would have, anyway. The trick is being able to cast it wandlessly in your free hand, I’m sure you noticed?”

Charlie nodded, and Victoire understood, but Harry continued. “That wasn’t just a _Ventus_ with flames on top though. When Hermione took over the DMLE, her and I had a big talk with all the Aurors and Hit Wizards about dumbing down their dueling to the basics, because it seemed like no matter how hard we drilled them, they went to the damned dueling clubs and saw all these flashy spells being thrown around, without understanding the principles behind what the duelers were doing. To be honest, half the duelers I’ve seen in the adult leagues don’t know what they’re doing, and wouldn’t make very good Aurors, if you ask me,” he stopped for a moment, sipping from his glass.

“Blowing Ron’s stream back at him might have been enough if I was fighting a Death Eater. I layered the bluebell flames on top of dried wood because the _Ventus_ charm has to be channeled to be used the way it was, so transfiguring what it was affecting was essentially free time I had to aim my wand anyway. I might as well make it harder for Ron, who I know has a mastery of elemental particles and rocks in particular, and see if I can end the duel right there. Had the flames caught, I could have just Stunned him right then while he was dealing with them.” He looked purposely at Victoire, who smiled back at him.

“Which is why you do so much research in your office on who you’re hunting,” she reasoned. Harry flashed her a grin.

“Exactly,” he said. 

“Speaking of rocks,” Charlie cut in, “do you always hunt dark elemental wizards wearing a bloody conductor hat?” 

Harry shook his head, chuckling. “I asked Victoire to bring her cloak this morning, which I suppose doesn’t need to be explained, now.” Victoire sipped her water and gave him a knowing look, before shaking her head affirmatively. “We’ll cover outfits and costumes quite a bit once you get into the Concealment training courses. This was just a little exhibition so you knew what to be on the lookout for. It’s not like a big piece of metal,” he pointed to the iron shield on the ground nearby, “can’t be conjured in a fight, but it’s simpler to Transfigure something, and there are fewer counterspells to what you’re doing. Especially if your opponent thinks it’s a cotton conductor hat,” he jabbed at Charlie with his finger, before finishing, “when it was _clearly_ tweed.” 

“And stylish,” Ron ribbed. He _Finite’d_ the shield, stood up and handed the cap back to Harry, who vanished it. 

After a moment, Ron turned to Victoire, still standing in the early morning sunlight with Luna, who was now holding Ron’s large rock up to the light in one hand. “Time for one of your own before breakfast? You can duel Charlie.”

Victoire looked over at Charlie, who smiled at her and nodded. “Want to, Vee? You can help me show Ronnie how it’s done in the new world.” 

“Alright,” she said, drawing her wand and offering her hand to Charlie, who took it and walked onto the pitch with her. 

Ron and Harry hadn’t mentioned the small dueling clocks on the table, and Victoire wasn’t sure if they were going to or not. She appreciated that they were taking this seriously, though. They had obviously prepared this session with the same kind of thoroughness they did to anything important to them, but were also following her lead and letting the conversation dictate where they went with it. And she certainly had a lot to think about, after watching those duels.

Dueling clocks were used in official competitions. Each one was tied to each witch or wizard participating – as many as four at a time – and monitored them for a few things, including cheating via Time Turner. Time Turners were extremely rare, and banned in about every function she knew of. Dueling was no exception, but the rules still existed to make sure no one manipulated time in their quest to win a duel. They also ruled when a duel would be declared a draw, which was rare but not unheard of. Typical duels lasted ten minutes, though most were over far before then. If a set of clocks rang at the ten minute mark, any spells other than purely defensive ones cast after were discounted, and could even disqualify a competitor from the entire competition if it was judged they attacked after the time limit on purpose. If every clock didn’t ring at exactly ten minutes, an inquiry about time manipulation would occur automatically. Victoire had never heard of a time violation occurring, though. 

The clocks had another feature: the folding flags. Clocks generally had five flags but could be charmed to have more or less depending on the rules of the competition. Once a clock was keyed to a competitor, it would automatically record any fair points against that person. Spells that connect and cause damage, but aren’t debilitating, count a point against. This function was important because in some competitions, and in all youth competitions, duels were decided by points rather than by knock-out. 

For various reasons, it wasn’t practical for duels to always end in Stunning. Harry and Ron’s first exhibition was an example of a duel where it would be unsafe to allow the duel to continue, even though Ron hadn’t been knocked out. Harry had caught Ron’s wand, awarding a win to Harry, but if Ron’s wand had merely been knocked out of his hands, a point would be called and the duel stopped if Harry couldn’t immediately follow up on his attack. 

There was some disagreement in the community about the points system, especially at higher levels. Some wizards didn’t think it was proper to hold back due to things as mundane as safety protocols, while others argued that it wasn’t always fair to award points for spells that didn’t affect the ultimate outcome of a duel. Nonetheless the rule persisted, despite most high level duels ending in Stuns of one form or another, anyway. 

Charlie and Victoire were both rather close with Ron, who was big on dueling, and had participated in their share of duels with one another over the years as Victoire matured. She took the suggestion from Ron that she should try her hand against Charlie as another sign that she was being taken seriously, at this stage.

As Victoire bowed to her uncle, paced back, and raised her wand to guard, she recalled that Charlie didn’t favor the points system, either. He preferred to support a more traditional way of determining the winner of a duel: First Blood.


	5. Shell Cottage

Charlie raised his wand into a high guard, wand held above and behind his shoulder and free hand pointed down toward Victoire’s feet, finding his balance. Victoire adopted the same guard Ron often used, with her wand held tightly, palm downwards and just below waist height. She wasn’t as tall as Ron, but she was eye-to-eye with Charlie, and faced off with him from about fifteen yards. 

Dueling to First Blood or, as classical muggle dueling called ‘to the bloom,’ wasn’t as gruesome as it might have sounded. True, it was generally a more serious way of approaching the sport than what the Hogwarts leagues or most of the youth clubs would allow, but it wasn’t inherently much more dangerous than any form of dueling was. Though most duels still tended to end in Stunning, the trick to winning a First Blood duel was to remember that a single point was enough to end the duel, even if you weren’t seriously hurt or your attack wasn’t impeded. Competitions in this style tended to be fast-paced, with no probing in the beginning of the match to feel out your opponent’s style or weaknesses. 

Harry would have excelled in this kind of competition, if he could stomach the sport at all. It favored wizards who had a heavy sense of discipline, who were motivated to do their research on their opponents and, though it would be impossible to maintain forever, who were rarely seen fighting long enough to be studied. Victoire had heard of high level competitive, even World Championship, matches in the First Blood category won by witches and wizards no one had heard of, coming out of nowhere to enter and sweeping the competition before disappearing again. Ron had a lot to say on the matter.

In this case, Victoire knew quite a bit about Charlie’s style. It was no big secret that he was a tough wizard, working for most of his adult life with Dragons all over the world. For a wizard, he was at the beginning of his prime years, and had never been stronger or faster. He had been one of the most celebrated Quidditch players while at Hogwarts, and could have played professionally had he wanted to, though Victoire had initially been surprised hearing he played Seeker, rather than Beater. Victoire wasn’t great on a broom, and figured she was missing something obvious. Charlie’s build suggested he was a bruiser, but he was actually a very smart strategist, and was the one adult Weasley who could truly challenge Ron at chess and similar games. He had been Quidditch Captain, after all.

When Victoire started seriously considering being an Auror, Bill had pulled her aside and warned her about Charlie. It was common knowledge he and Victoire were close, and Bill had cautioned his daughter not to take too much of what he said to heart. Charlie was a powerful wizard, and sometimes his advice made sense for him, but not for others. Bill had always been close to him, too, and still was, but they disagreed on a lot of subjects and fighting was one of them.

Charlie fought Dragons for a living, and used fire and elemental spells quite regularly. He fought like a professional Dragon handler though, not like an Auror; he was not trained to be precise or cautionary. On the other hand, Charlie knew how to control his emotions and not go overboard – he was unlikely to accidentally hurt Victoire in a duel, and was never cruel to anyone or anything. He was a very dangerous dueler, though, because he wouldn’t play by the rules everyone might hold themselves to. He didn’t fight dirty, but he was very unconventional. Victoire had even heard a few whispers about him being compared to Albus Dumbledore, and the duel with Grindelwald. That was hard to believe, but Victoire didn’t hear anything about Dumbledore mentioned carelessly. 

On the other hand, Victoire was no stranger to her family breaking convention. The duels she and Charlie had just watched had surprised both of them, and she assumed her looming Auror training was going to shatter her expectations in a lot of ways.

Charlie moved first, and Victoire rose to meet him, shifting her weight to the balls of her feet and taking a few steps forward. A series of area spells came at her, aimed low and attempting to wrong-foot her. _“Glisseo!”_ Charlie barked twice, before sending a Leglocker curse at her feet. _“Stupefy!”_ he growled, followed by a shouted _“Somnium!”_ in her direction. He was favoring her left side, trying to draw her to the right. Victoire was right handed, and wondered if he was trying to flank her on the weak side. He wasn’t moving much himself, instead planting his feet and trying to maneuver her away from her starting point. 

She met the first two spells with a spoken defense charm, _“Prismatis!”_ It wasn’t as strong of a shield as _Protego_ , but didn’t slow her down at all, and allowed her to keep her steps fleet and rely on her physicality and speed. She wanted to close the distance between herself and Charlie a little, so that his curses on the ground around her wouldn’t impede her without getting in his own way. Victoire knew some wizards liked to start with area of effect spells, to try to control the duel and set themselves up for one targeted attack to get through defenses and finish a duel abruptly. She dodged the Leglocker and leapt over Charlie’s Stunner, raising another Prismatic Shield as she landed. She didn’t feel the Shield take the Sleeping charm, and figured it must have missed her. _“Stupefy!”_ she shouted, which got Charlie moving.

Instead of Shielding, Charlie dodged to his right, taking two quick steps and then a long stride away from her, without turning his back to her wand. He planted his feet again and conjured what looked like a sheet of marble at knee height and flung it at her, taking another step away from her and raising a Shield. 

Victoire let her _Prismatis_ drop, shouting _“Lagann!”_ and watching her Drilling hex bore through the top end of the marble sheet. It kept going, shooting wide of Charlie. She ran straight toward him, sending a Blasting curse at the crumbled slate remnants between them to finish what her first spell started. She sent another Drilling hex at Charlie’s Shield, which ripped through his defense and knocked him backward. He took a half step to balance himself, and used bright white sparks from his wand to deflect the next Stunner Victoire sent at his head.

“Nice shot, girl!” Ron called from the sideline.

Victoire followed up by taking a few more steps toward Charlie. _“Duro!”_ she said, countering the _Glisseo_ he sent to throw her off balance. She was ten yards from him when he twisted on the spot, a short, keening crack of Disapparation giving her a second’s pause.

Charlie reappeared and sent a Stunner at her weak side, but she had already shouted _“Protego! Lynxortie!”_ Victoire brandished her wand out at eye level, and a large cat, five stone or more, popped out of her wand tip. It turned to hiss at Charlie, and ran at him, while her Shield deflected his next spell, something electric blue and jagged, like a lightning bolt. Victoire turned and sent another Drilling hex, which missed, before drawing a triangle and cutting across with her wand, shoulder to hip. A pale yellow sine wave connected her and Charlie’s new Shield, materializing instantaneously as her wand came down in a sweep and she breathed the incantation. A second later, a bright yellow whip of light flashed between them, striking the top of Charlie’s Shield and coming down on top of it. The spell broke through and hit the ground with a slap, but he had Disapparated.

A split-second later, Victoire turned on the spot too, Apparating off to the right of where she had been with an ear splitting crack. Right next to her, not three yards off, was Charlie, who shouted _“Protego!”_ as she raised her wand. She sent a Drilling hex straight through the Shield, and Victoire smiled for a second, drawing a circle with her wand and jabbing it forward. _“Stupefy!”_

Victoire’s Stunner was dead-on, but Charlie deflected it with his wand before it could hit him in the belly. He recovered quickly, starting to point it off at her again, but her arm was already up. _“Incarcerous,”_ she said, and Charlie collapsed in front of her, tied head-to-toe in ropes conjured from her wand. She noted they were the same ropes Bill had used on the boat in America when she was younger, which she wasn’t sure she had registered before. 

Victoire took a breath, then split the knots on her ropes and vanished the lynx, which had met up with them and was circling, as Luna, Harry and Ron came up to them. Harry helped Charlie to his feet. Ron was clapping. 

“Nice work, Blondie,” Charlie said, brushing himself off and looking at his upper arm, which was bleeding lightly. One of the cords must have cut into the skin under his sleeve. They both were breathing heavy. He shook her hand and pulled her into a hug, which she was happy for. Some of her uncles might have waved off the outcome and joked they had gone easy on her, but Charlie did no such thing. 

They walked back over to the stools, and Harry vanished everything after everyone had collected their things. Luna picked up her wand, which had stayed on the table the whole morning. She smiled serenely at Victoire, looking like she was completely at ease. They all made their way back up through the gardens.

“So, Victoire, what did you learn?”

Charlie beat her to it, and said “that Apparating in combat isn’t as safe as you think it is.” Harry nodded, immediately.

“One of many things we might take from that duel. Well done, both of you. It’s refreshing to see you’re taking this seriously. You’re not a child anymore, Victoire.” 

She met his eye and kept her face passive. It was enormous praise coming from Harry Potter, but it was a veiled warning, too. 

“I liked the final moments. _Incarcerous_ is a tricky spell, but as fine as anything else in a duel. Just be careful about over-relying on it in a group fight. Charlie’s right, Apparating the way he did gave you an opportunity to do exactly what you did, which was capitalize on the second he’s out of your view to put up defenses or conjure something you can use as a force-multiplier. Nice lynx, by the way. Malfoy used a similar spell against me in our first duel, though I don’t think he cast it in French. It’s also a good bet Charlie can’t talk to cats,” he made eye contact with Ron, who chuckled. 

“You got a little lucky there, Victoire,” Ron said. “I’m not discounting that you knew roughly where Charlie might reappear and you seem very in tune with spatial differentiation,” he paused and looked at Charlie, who was eyeing him strangely. “What? My wife uses big words. I keep up with her. Anyway, it’s obvious you both were paying close attention to where you were, which is a fair sight better than some duelists.” 

“Quite right,” agreed Harry. “On both counts. You ambushed Charlie successfully and that’s a valuable skill to hone, but it’s not going to happen again. If he were a dark wizard, he’d know how to outflank you if he ever got a second chance at a fight. Not to mention that a few more feet to the right and you both would have Splinched each other. It’s a draw at worst on a dueling circuit but it might be a death sentence to an Auror.”

Victoire swallowed. She hadn’t missed that implication. 

“The Drilling hexes were clever, Victoire,” Luna stated, sweetly. “I think you should work on your aim. You already cast them well enough to break _Protego_ shields. If you can fight from further away, you won’t need to spend so much time closing distance.”

“Well said, Luna,” Harry said. “I hadn’t thought to bring that up. Personally, closing the distance in a fight is where I feel comfortable, but my style might not be quite right for you, all the time. Charlie is definitely a hard wizard to match in a long-range duel, so if you feel you can take him on at his own game the next time, it might be worth trying. You’ll have to expand the kind of offensive spells you’re using if you really want to fight at range though. Luna’s right, your aim isn’t good enough. The Blasting charm on Charlie’s slate wall was a little sloppy, and could have been time spent you didn’t have. 

Victoire nodded. She had quite a bit to think about, after this morning. “You didn’t use any Transfiguration after that, Uncle Charlie. I was expecting some fire, too.”

“What would you have done, had he tried?” Ron asked.

“I thought I might use an energy ward, or else just conjure resistance for it. I don’t feel comfortable with much more than that. Vivian gave me a tip on conjuring Ice Crystals to block Levitated attacks, but I haven’t tried it in a duel, yet. I wouldn’t have thought Charlie was the right person to experiment against, so I just stuck to my own game rather than try to play someone else’s.”

“Funny, Vee. I was trying to keep you off yours,” Charlie said. “Maybe I should have just tried to play mine.” He gave her an approving grin, which she returned.

“Here we go, this is the kind of thought process you’ll need to start following. There are levels and levels to this; it’s not just all about talent,” Harry stated. “Good work, all told. I can’t say I expected to get through this much in one session.” He put his hand on Victoire’s shoulder as they all reached the door into the kitchen, letting her step in first. 

“Why don’t you stay away from too much experimenting for now, hm?” Harry continued, stripping his form-fitting robes and revealing a T-shirt and trousers beneath. “I think you have plenty to build on, I don’t want you second-guessing your abilities or focusing on peripheral skills when you have a solid plan to practice what you’re good at. Energy wards especially can be unreliable in combat. Defensive enchantments like that are more of a force multiplier you can use when you have time to breathe and really think about a problem, but they’re often not worth the time it takes in a duel. Good on you for considering them, but I’d put it out of your mind, for now. Hermione can help you with that later on.”

They had a nice breakfast together as a family. Victoire sat with Lily, who asked her all about the Ceremony, and filled Victoire in on what she had been doing lately with her dad. Victoire noticed Lily was doing her best to keep her away from Teddy, who kept throwing mischievous looks from across the table, which Victoire returned with interest. 

Ginny, Harry and Lily left after breakfast, and Victoire spent a quiet hour with Teddy before Bill and Fleur were ready to leave. Victoire hugged her brother and exchanged _bisous_ again with Dominique, before making eye contact with her father and kissing Teddy heartily in the doorway. She promised him she’d visit him when she was in London next, and he wished her luck getting started on things.

Ron said goodbye to Victoire and Fleur, before shaking Bill’s hand and drifting off into the kitchen for more to eat. Molly gave Victoire a huge hug and ushered her parents out, saying the children would be just fine with _Mamie_ and not to worry. She even gave Fleur a squeeze, which was returned politely. _“Merci,_ Molly,” Fleur had said.

 _“De rien,_ Fleur,” Molly replied. “We’ll have fun and you can rest a while. Eat a little! You’re much too skinny for your own good.”

Fleur snorted at that, and waved carelessly as she left into the front yard. 

Bill had never shaken some of the security protocols he had picked up over the years, and he Disapparated before the women did, giving Fleur a knowing look. The two of them gave him a minute, then grasped hands and Apparated together to the seaside, and Shell Cottage. 

Bill came over to them and nodded, taking Fleur’s hand as the three of them walked the beach toward the small house. Victoire could just see the windswept rocks at the top of the beach, surrounded by wildflowers under the summer sun. 

Inside, Victoire went into the smallest bedroom, changing into a light sundress and pulling a pair of muggle sunglasses from the trunk that awaited her in the corner. She put the glasses and her wand on the small vanity near the front of the room, and laid on the bed for a while, gathering her thoughts.

Victoire drifted off for half an hour, going through the duels from the morning in her head. Harry and Ron were much past her level; some of the Transfiguration they used well past anything Victoire had seen even in adult dueling leagues. She’d have to cross that gulf later, as she wasn’t sure where to begin on testing her abilities. All she knew was that Professor Aisling, her Transfiguration Professor the past few years, had had quite a bit to say about using Transfiguration in combat, and none of it sounded safe. Even Charlie’s marble slate wasn’t something she would feel confident conjuring if she wasn’t prepared to seriously hurt whoever she was dueling. 

On the other hand, they had given her some good advice on how to gauge where she was at, and some achievable milestones. She hadn’t needed to work on her aim so much in the past. As much as Victoire was invested in the dueling scene, she was usually an observer or a theoretical researcher at best. She hadn’t ever competed in serious competitions or been part of anything more structured than the Hogwarts Dueling Club. She had been dueling for seven years, and sometimes against family members who were unequivocally talented, but she would need to take a step further down that road if she were to meet Ron and Harry at the level they showed today in their sparring. Victoire made a note to send a letter to Philip this week, and ask if the Dueling Club in his area had open tournaments. Maybe she could go out to Nottingham and enter in a couple of them. 

After a while, Victoire and Fleur went out and sat on the beach together. They didn’t talk about anything, really. They didn’t converse as much as Dominique did with her mother, at home or in letters. Fleur always seemed to know what was on Victoire’s mind so, when things came up, one of them would bring it up baldly. They’d discuss it openly, and that was that. Neither of them were much for chatter.

Over dinner, though, Fleur asked Victoire how she was. Victoire figured it was mainly for her father’s benefit, as Fleur tended to know without asking. 

_“Cherie,_ are you alright?” She asked. Her voice was sweet and her tone was genuine. As strong as she was, Victoire knew her mother cared very deeply about her, and worried as much as any mother did. She served Victoire some angel hair from a platter on the table. Bill had a small bowl of thinly cut beef, almost raw, in a thin sauce he was adding to his pasta, while the women ladled meatballs and a hearty red sauce into their bowls. The whole cottage smelled of garlic and sea salt.

“I’m alright, _Maman._ I’m as ready as I can be, and I’m glad to have Hogwarts behind me.” She caught Bill’s eye. Hogwarts was a really special place, especially to the Weasley brothers. It was also a _complicated_ place for them. That look was full of several emotions. 

“Today was sobering. Uncles Ron, Harry, and Charlie gave me a lot to think about. I’m just glad they’re so supportive of me on this. After what Teddy went through with Uncle Harry, had you asked me last year if the family would approve of me doing this, I wouldn’t have known what to tell you.” 

Victoire paused and ate a meatball. She chewed softly for a moment, swallowed, and had a small sip of wine. When Bill cooked, Fleur insisted she was to pick what they drank. It had led to some very interesting dinners, over the years, depending on the alcohol content Fleur decided on, and which guests had joined them at the table. Tonight they had a light, golden elvish wine from southern France. With just Fleur and Victoire drinking, there was little point in a heavy ale accompaniment, or any liquor, so they stuck to just wine and ice water. Bill drank nothing but water, holding to his agreement with Charlie even now of staying sober as long as Charlie did. 

“I quite forget my point,” Victoire said, after a moment. Fleur smiled at her, amused. “I’m afraid,” she hesitated for just a second, catching her mother’s eye before continuing, “Uncle Charlie’s going to want a rematch,” she finished with a small smile. “I don’t think he expected to lose today, and I’m sure he’ll be ready for me next time.” 

-V-V-V-

The next morning, Victoire and Fleur went for a morning dip in the ocean. Fleur was quite a strong swimmer, telling her daughter she had had a nasty experience in her youth and had redoubled her efforts to get good at it whenever she had a chance, since. Victoire was decidedly not very good. She was small and quick as a runner, and no one would ever call Victoire Weasley anything but graceful, but she had trouble propelling herself very far in the water. She always felt sluggish, which she wasn’t accustomed to. She mused that flying was similar; she preferred her feet firmly on the ground most of the time, or at least within a few inches. She was fantastic on ice skates, for whatever reason, even putting Louis to shame sometimes when they were children. 

They did a few laps up and down the beach together, and Victoire sunbathed for a while afterward. Fleur instead went out away from the shallows on her own, with Bill coming out in the late morning to watch. It was a quiet day until lunch, when the three of them sat down for Bill’s rendition of Molly’s meat pie and patty melt recipes. The women ate from separate trays, there’s having been baked for a while longer than Bill’s, and Victoire brought up her first few topics to Bill. They agreed the focus this week should be knocking out the easiest potions on her list, and getting back into a rhythm on her readings.

Fleur had set up a study space for Victoire in the second bedroom, vanishing most of Louis’ things, including his bed. 

Sometime after Dominique had been born, Bill and Charlie had added a fourth bedroom to the cottage. By the time it was finished, Victoire had been captivated by the magic they used and asked if she could move her things. Even though it was smaller than her old one, Victoire loved that her new room had a better view of the water, including a small part of an island you could see from shore. By the time Louis was born they were already living in America but, upon moving back, Victoire had kept the sea-room and Louis was able to take over the second bedroom, rather than share with Dominique. 

This summer, Victoire would sleep in Dominique’s simple room, as the sea-room had also been repurposed. Unlike Louis’ room, which simply held a big desk, a large bookshelf, and several areas on the walls Victoire could use for notes and equations, her old room was bare of any furniture. All of the walls had been painted in dark colors, and the gas lamp had been removed in favor of candlesticks and a pair of brass and copper sconces on the walls. The two windows looking out over the sea had been gutted and replaced with warded glass, without sills or supporting bars. There was a small stone altar spilling out on the floor from the north wall, and a tiny tray folded in one of the corners that Victoire could use as a tableau. 

The room got very dark, lit after the sunset only by reflected moonlight off the water outside, though Victoire could make out the chalk circles and meditation spheres scratched into the floor and corners of the room. She had needed a controlled environment where she could handle a few of the ingredients for her Potions practice, but Victoire had decided against cross-using this space, and had instead resigned herself to waiting to use Ron and Hermione’s cellar for Potions practice beyond the simple things she could do in Louis’ room. Victoire’s room had been prepared by Fleur for her warding and Curse-Breaking practice, as well as for handling any books from Hogwarts’ Restricted Section that she decided to borrow from Professor Longbottom. 

A small hourglass, an assortment of fat wax candles, a glass bowl of iron filings, and a regular, large onion sat on the floor on the altar, with a thin leather pad for Victoire’s wand. She split her time after lunch between her room and Louis’, going through some of her mental exercises and trying to get her books organized. Her trunk from Hogwarts had been unpacked overnight, presumably by one of Fleur’s spells, and sorted into Dominique’s bedroom along with fresh linens and a few more sundresses that had been Fleur’s. Victoire was roughly Fleur’s size, tall and lean but fairly built, while Dominique was skinnier. Victoire assumed Dominique’s wardrobe, which had been so full in London that she had kept the overflow at the Cottage, was vanished temporarily. Victoire decided not to mention that possibility to her sister.

Once she was settled, she spent a few hours reading Hermione and Ron’s book on Warding, which Victoire hadn’t seen before. It seemed like a safe choice for her first day. She had gotten through the introduction and the first few chapters about energy signatures and leylines before admitting, while it wasn’t as dry as it could have been, she needed a break from the text. She walked into her old bedroom and sat on the floor, conjuring a small cushion for herself. 

She cleared her mind as best she could and meditated for a while, until Bill called her for dinner.


	6. Potions and Wards

Victoire had received an Outstanding in her Arithmancy O.W.L. the summer after 5th year, but hadn’t continued with the class. Part of committing to her career choice had been deciding to focus as much as possible on the courses she was required to take, so she had reluctantly dropped her father’s best subject. Harry had mentioned to her, early on, that he hadn’t taken Arithmancy at school at all, instead learning the basics from Hermione and a private tutor several years after leaving Hogwarts. Though most of Harry’s work nowadays was based on that foundation, it wasn’t applicable to much of what an Auror Trainee did, and Victoire hadn’t given it much thought since her O.W.L.s. 

Bill, of course, had occasionally mentioned the basics of his job with the banks. “Curse-Breaking is multi-faceted,” he had said. “Breaking through crypts and booby-trapped tombs, or cracking wards on old, mean family heirlooms _does_ happen, but the more exciting days come after weeks of preparation. Once you trace a Cursed object, there are equations you can use to figure out the probability of a certain series of spells working to override the jinxes and avoid pitfalls layered around the object itself.”

Victoire hadn’t had a lot of questions for him. _Papa_ had a strange way of speaking and could be rather closed off, but when he spoke about his job with someone trusted he took on a very bookish tone and sometimes rambled on. Bill’s book had been extensively edited by an American wizard he had met in Egypt before the War. Had it not been, Victoire thought it might read more like Hermione’s prose, which was very informative but didn’t try much to make even interesting topics very exciting. 

“The basic concept,” Harry had said during one of her Side-Alongs, “of Arithmancy in warding and Curse-Breaking is that a central structure always exists. If you can’t beat the outer wards, you can sometimes trace the core of a spell and, once you know that, you can design a way to penetrate it in a number of ways. Cores are just representations of personal magic, and can be attacked just like in a duel. Sometimes an established equation exists to help you fast-track your attack on the wards or on the core, and you can predict the probability that an attack will be successful before you risk trying it. Again,” he added, “only sometimes.” 

Applied Arithmancy didn’t come up very often at Hogwarts, so it was generally seen as a dry subject by most of the students. Victoire didn’t agree but, without much experience or opportunity to apply what she knew, she was going through _Arithmantic Warding in Dwellings_ from essentially square one. 

Hermione, who had clearly written most of the book, had outlined a few exercises at the end of most chapters, and Ron had an afterword at the end of Chapter 3 suggesting how to set up the first complete assignment. 

Victoire’s task this morning was to raise a simple set of wards protecting a small area from outside interference or eavesdropping, and to set a number of anti-penetration alarms, along with a simple core as a fail-safe that would maintain her wards even if her outer enchantments failed to Shield the area on their own. 

Hermione’s opening paragraph at the start of Chapter 3 gave an overview of how to approach this.

_To maintain wards in a wizarding dwelling, you must first decide on what kind of core to use. Chapters 11 through 14 of this text provide examples you might choose from, if you are not comfortable designing your own._

_Most cores are built around a geometric shape of some form, and are layered as many as eighteen times within your warding spells. Research suggests that a majority of the most powerful wards do not use more than four core layers, however._

_If you have trouble deciding on a core shape, please see Chapter 10. For your first exercise, we suggest a parallelogram in two-dimensional space._

Once Victoire managed to construct a core, she would need to infuse it with magic and establish a link to the structure she was protecting. In her case, she only wanted to ward one room with one layer of spells, and she would use the altar in the northern corner as her anchor. Anchoring simple cores was usually arbitrary, and didn’t affect how a ward was used or how it was attacked, unless there was more advanced magic involved. Still, the book suggested it as good practice.

_Once you have your core in mind, you will need to speak at regular volume with normal pacing your intent to protect your dwelling with your chosen enchantments. If you still have not decided the intent of your wards, or would like to use a standard Ministry ward, please see Chapter 4. The exercise at the end of this Chapter will give you a sample phrase you can use for practice._

Victoire had modified the phrase Ron included, slightly. Hermione’s first chapter had stressed that wards were more powerful if you made them personal to whoever they were protecting, and they weren’t picky; warding enchantments were a good idea partly because they were simple and hard to break using loopholes in spells, instead operating with _intent_ in mind. Even the simplest wards were hard to completely deconstruct or bypass without practice or advanced and systematic attacks, though enemies breaking through sections of your wards and ignoring the alarms was always a danger. At least you wouldn’t be caught by surprise, she reasoned.

Victoire stood up in the middle of her room, the book open and spread on her tray on the floor. She shrugged her shoulders, muttering, “I guess let’s give it a try.” 

She raised her wand and began to draw a small, thin rectangle in the air. She said, in her normal speaking voice, _“J'ai l'intention de protéger cet espace et tous ceux qui entrent à la recherche d'un sanctuaire,”_ closing off the shape as she finished speaking. She walked, wand held firm in front of her, to the altar on the floor, thrust her wand into the stone and repeated the statement of intent. As she spoke the final word, Victoire knew it had worked. A pale yellow rectangle glowed briefly in the air near where she had been standing, before dissipating. She noticed, annoyed, that the lines of the rectangle had been wavy and uneven. She would have to practice keeping her hand steadier. 

The end of chapter exercise had detailed her next step as needing to define the bounds of the spell. Victoire returned to the room’s center, poking her wand. When she found the right place again she felt a soft warmth run up her fingers, though the core of her ward did not reappear. Dragging her wand to a wall, she spoke, _“J'ai l'intention de lier ma protection dans ce point.”_

Victoire walked the breadth of the sea-room, repeating her boundary phrase in all four corners. She briefly wondered if she would have to climb onto the roof of Shell Cottage to ward against attacks from the air, but quickly shook her head and dismissed the thought. Hermione’s foreword about _intent_ clearly meant she would not have to be that specific. 

Now that Victoire’s core was constructed, she needed to wait for the magic to age. To ward a whole structure the size of Shell Cottage, the spell would sink in after a day or so; for a space as small as her room, the book advised to wait eight hours or until the following day before tying the core to outer protections. She could have, of course, put up a number of defensive enchantments, but she would not be able to link them into the structure of her ward until the magic aged, at which point she would have to recast her enchantments. Shell Cottage also already had wards in place, so there was little reason for her to ‘jump the gun,’ as Louis would say. Finished for now, Victoire closed the door to her room, climbing the small stairway in the hall to make progress on Potions.

She had set two cauldrons up on Louis’ desk, and had already gathered the ingredients for the Draught of Living Death. She hadn’t tried making the potion in over a year, but it was simple enough to prepare. The trick to a potent Draught was getting the stirring and mixing correct, which also meant taking care with the sopophorous bean, which is what she was going to practice this afternoon while her ward aged. 

Fleur had suggested Victoire brew Pepper-Up potion at the same time. The Auror Potions tests would hardly be stress-free, and Victoire could use the practice with multi-tasking. Now that the children were back from Hogwarts, Fleur would probably have use for the potion over the summer, anyway. 

While she prepared the ingredients for Pepper-Up, Victoire started thinking about her letter to Philip. She had a basic idea of what she thought he could help her with, but wasn’t sure how much she wanted to commit to, when it came to dueling. 

_Philip,_

_I hope you’re well._

_I’ve taken to hiding from Teddy off on the seaside, holed up in baby brother’s room with cauldrons and books. I expect I’ll receive a letter from Max in the coming weeks about how much he misses you._

_I’d like to visit, some time, for dueling practice._ _  
_ _If the Club you’ve joined holds tournaments, please owl me, as I’d love to be there._

 _I’m including this week’s copy of_ Prepared Practitioner, _which was suggested to me by Professor Flitwick before Graduation. I’ve taken out a subscription. There’s an article there about Concealment D. Transfiguration I think you’ll like, and a piece written by one of the Hit Wizards involved in investigating the Shacklebolt assassination. It’s been several years since she’s written for any publications, but her account of the investigation in Brussels is unbelievable. Tell me what you think about the Bugbear?_

_We spoke about meeting with Professor R. I’d like to spend the day at Hogwarts, I think. I’m sending an owl to Prof. Longbottom to ask if we can meet him that evening, as he tends the greenhouses in the mornings during the summer. I mentioned I’d like to ask him about some of the dueling he’d done, but how do you feel about dueling me and having him comment, instead? I think his advice would be really helpful, and I’m beginning to think I need more practice than I accounted for. He was World Champion for over a year, so I’m sure he can give us practical advice._

_I’m also including a vial of bunyip oil. It’s very expensive, but we only need two drops for the Gyge’s Serum. I have ten drops set aside for me to practice with, and figured you could save yourself the trouble when you go out to get ingredients. Max suggested you were worried about some of the costs this summer, but I’m making it clear you and I are in this together._ _  
_ _Please accept it._

_I’ll owl again when I hear back from Prof. Longbottom. I’ll wait to set the date with him and Prof. R, so that both of us have time to get further on our Potions._

_Victoire_

That night, Victoire had penned the letter and sent it through the floo to _Mamie_ and Uncle Charlie at the Burrow, who would post it for her in the morning. Bill’s enchantments on Shell Cottage made it unplottable, and they didn’t receive owls there. All of Victoire’s post would direct either to the Burrow, for urgent letters, or to their apartment in London, which Bill went back to check each week. Charlie would forward anything urgent to the Weasleys at the cottage; he was in daily contact with Bill, who acted as his sponsor for his sobriety. 

Victoire’s Draught had come out fine, and Fleur had taken both potions from Victoire to be bottled and doled out to family members who might use them. Pepper-Up potion was in constant demand with so many children mixing germs between households, and Draught of Living Death was a potent sleeping potion. Victoire mentioned Luna might appreciate a few bottles, for her son. Fleur nodded and made the arrangements. 

After a dinner of oysters and shelled shrimp in stew, with crusty bread, Victoire left her parents to argue in the kitchen and returned to her bedroom. Bill had brought home bottles of some dark, sugary liquid from a muggle town on the other end of the bay to pair with Fleur’s supper. He had gotten them all a bottle of a fizzy drink Charlie swore by, boasting twenty-three unique flavors, but both of the French women had spluttered, spitting their sips out at once. Victoire had stuck to ice water, after that. 

It would be a new moon in a few days time, and Victoire’s room was almost completely dark. There were stories, even ones that ended up in books at Hogwarts, about Veela transforming into monsters when the moon was completely dark, sort of like reverse-werewolves. Some of the more superstitious girls in some of the other houses had spread rumors about Victoire and Teddy in sixth year. They had evidently read about Teddy’s father and Victoire’s great-grandmother, who had been talked about in French newspapers even before Fleur had made headlines during the Triwizard Tournament. None of those students were brave enough to confront Victoire about it, or stupid enough to tease Teddy, but it had sat poorly with both of them.

Teddy suggested several times that they do something to warrant being whispered about, and had many ideas over the years about how to respond to rumors spread about people he loved.

“Are we just going to let them spread lies, V? It’s not like they’ll stop at the two of us,” Teddy had said. Teddy’s grandmother had instilled quite a protector’s instinct in him, which Harry had done nothing to curb as godfather. “A werewolf’s son that’s able to sneak into your dormitory and swap all of your house robes with muggle dresses, or fill your cloak linings with popcorn kernels, isn’t someone you want to be speaking down about, I reckon,” he had mused, darkly.

Victoire’s boyfriend certainly had his moments as a prankster, though he was pretty toothless for a proper scion of the House Black, in her opinion. Had Victoire wanted revenge, she would have asked Karine to curse a few choice targets. That girl had never needed to draw her wand in self-defense in the corridors all six years at Hogwarts with Victoire, and later Vivian, around, but if there was a prospective Auror trainee that rivaled Victoire’s natural talent and family contacts, it was Karine. 

Karine’s family hadn’t been much of a fixture of the Wizarding Wars in Britain at the end of the century, but Victoire had heard several harrowing accounts of battles and secret operations against Grindelwald they had participated - or died - in. Alexander Balakin, Karine’s second cousin, was one of the driving forces behind the Russian Ministry partnering with the British Auror Program this year, and spent time with Uncle Harry privately.

Karine, along with four other sixth - now seventh - year students, had enrolled in Hogwarts’ program preparing them for Auror training a year behind Victoire and Philip. Karine was a fantastic student, though Victoire wondered how she’d fare when she started the physical training required for her Auror application. Victoire expected a letter from her any day, asking how the preparations were going. 

Victoire noticed her thoughts wandering, and snapped back to the present. _“Lumos,”_ she said, walking into the sea-room and probing with her wand for her spell signature. When she found it, she could feel it had hardened somewhat. The core must have set. She lit three of the fat wax candles on the altar with her wand, using a nonverbal Levitation charm to move two of them into the wall sconces. 

_“Muffliato, Silencio Inimicum, Prismatis Meus,”_ Victoire began, her wand drawing small, thin rectangles in between her somatic motions, as she rotated around the room. _“Protego Intrusus, Cave Inimicum, Repello Maxima,”_ invisible, vibrating waves spread in cones with Victoire’s spells, forming magical barriers inside the walls of the sea-room. She could feel that the ward was working, constructing itself between her chosen boundaries and linking the enchantments she cast in with the structure of the house around the room, tying in with the anchor on the floor, and with the magic she had infused into the core. _“Salvio Hexia, Radialem Solem,”_ she intoned, completing her circle and facing the warded windows on the southwestern wall. _“Radialem Praesidio, Scandere Praesidio, Fianto Duri.”_

Victoire lowered her wand. “That’ll work,” she said to herself, satisfied. Hermione’s foreword had mentioned a properly constructed ward would alert the caster when active, and now Victoire understood what she had meant. 

Most witches and wizards could describe how familiar magic felt. Every wizarding home had a unique feel to it, almost like a distinct smell, that rose to your senses when you entered after having been gone a while. It might fade into the background in places you spent a large amount of time, but it was always present. 

Hogwarts, the Burrow, their apartment in London, their old house in Laguna, all had a familiar signature Victoire took comfort in, when she was there. She realized now that feeling, in part, had to do with the wards woven into the walls of a home. The feeling that allowed her to fully relax at the Burrow was similar to how she felt when she mixed her magic with Grandpa Weasley, and it stood to reason that he had raised the wards there. 

Victoire’s wards had worked the way the book suggested, though she could feel that they were weaker in some places. She worked her way around the room for a quarter of an hour, using her wand and her free hand to pull at her own barriers, feeling the magic tense or stretch in places. 

She had never done magic like this before. As straightforward as it seemed, now she was doing it, it wasn’t something taught at Hogwarts. She wondered why as she strengthened some of her enchantments. A few of the areas affected by her spells didn’t link with her core properly, and had to be torn down in small increments and recast. Other parts linked up well enough, but felt _saggy_ to her. 

She didn’t have the words to describe the sensation, but she felt like her Shield charms in particular weren’t as elastic as they should be. Had the cottage walls not been protected under Bill’s wards, and a dark wizard was outside lobbing rocks - or cactus bulbs - in at Victoire, she was afraid they’d make it into the room, if slowly, instead of simply bouncing off her defenses. 

When she was through, she left the room as it was and readied herself for bed. Initially, she had set aside time the following morning for Bill to test her wards with her, but she thought now that was unnecessary. Whether or not the spells she had cast were strong enough to defend against actual Dark Magic she didn’t know, but she was confident she had completed the task to the level Ron’s first exercise expected of her. She’d need to finish Hermione’s book and think about different variations for her core, as well as learn other spells for hardening the barriers and perpetuating the wards for when she wasn’t present in the house or didn’t want to recast them every few days, but she had grasped the basic concept.

As she laid down to sleep, Victoire’s thoughts returned to her duel with Charlie. She had gotten lucky, she knew. She’d have to have a good plan for their rematch, whenever it came.


	7. Iron and Gold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and coffee and onions and...

Fleur slept late the next day, and Bill had breakfast alone with Victoire out on the balcony. The cottage largely spared them from the wind coming in off the coast, but Victoire could hear the waves against the shore. They had a good view of the Columbine fields out past the rocks, inland. 

Bill had prepared a small fry-up, which had been locally sourced in entirety from one of the muggle farmers he knew in town. Part of the charm of Shell Cottage was how remote it was, isolated as it was from most of the nearby settlements and farther still from any wizarding communities. Bill mentioned regularly to Charlie how lucky he was to have found the place all those years ago, and his wife and he had decided not to share the location with much of their family, maintaining that charm where they could. 

“How are your enchantments coming along?” Bill asked, after a time. “My wards flared last night. It seems you were able to raise a bubble over the sea-room?”

Victoire spoke delicately, sipping her coffee. “I hadn’t realized raising my own would trip your alarms, _Papa._ That makes sense,” she reasoned. “Did anything,” she looked for the right words, stumbling for a moment, “did anything go wrong?” 

Bill smiled, looking at her the way Charlie had the night of Graduation. “No, nothing’s wrong, sweetheart. The wards around the cottage informed me the sea-room had been warded against intrusion. I got the sense that whatever defenses you raised wouldn’t keep me out, so long as I entered without an intent to ‘break sanctuary,’ or something. Would you like me to test them with you?”

“No, _Papa,_ there’s no need. I had thought you should, but I think I get the fundamentals.”

“Would you mind if we took a look, anyway?” He asked, squinting at her in the sunlight. “There are a few subtle things that might be helpful for you, even if we won’t need to probe for holes. At least, I’m curious how you’re coming along,” he finished, intimating that this was a father-daughter thing as much as he was offering his service as a professional. “Your mother and I have different ways of warding, and I know your aunt literally wrote the book on it. If you have time.”

“Oh, of course, _Papa._ I’d love your advice. I just was surprised at how instinctual the magic felt, is all. I don’t think it came to me more easily than it would to anyone but, once I’d gotten it, it was very smooth spellcraft to work through. I’ve read about magic feeling like that, but I’ve never seen it.”

“Don’t discount yourself, Victoire. Some wizards can’t cast wards at all, as long as they live. It’s not simple stuff, and it takes some pretty strong intentions, which is part of the reason they can’t teach it at Hogwarts without a lot of planning. There have been electives introduced for students in the past focusing on magical Concealment, but any student with three or four classes a day is generally so distracted they’d never have the discipline to warrant it, whatever their talents.” 

“Why did it feel like I was able to do it my first day of trying, though?” Victoire asked. She was a quick study, but sometimes things felt like they came easy to her when she thought they shouldn’t, and she sometimes worried she was missing something important. “I don’t think I’m any stronger of a witch today than I was a year ago.”

“I’ll say it again, Victoire, please don’t discount yourself. No woman should be content with the idea that they’re not capable of incredible feats they haven’t had need yet to conquer. You’re a powerful witch, and you’re not the only one in your family who needs to be responsible with that power.”

Bill gave her a look, nibbling part of a very pink sausage and taking a few grapes into his mouth before speaking again. Victoire watched him politely take the pits from his mouth and place them on his plate. Had he been eating with Charlie they might have spit the pits out, but Victoire was like her mother that way, and wouldn’t tolerate it. 

“You’re wrong, anyway,” Bill said, matter-of-factly. “You’re noticeably holding yourself differently than you were at the start of last summer. You even breathe quieter. I wonder if your running routine has cleared up whatever asthma my side of the family passed onto you.”

Victoire doubted that was how it worked, but Bill was very like his father when it came to believing anecdotal muggle sayings about health, or anything really. She nodded seriously at him, keeping her face passive as he continued.

“None of that is what I was talking about, though. Don’t derail me with that glare of yours, girl,” he flashed his wolf’s smile at her again, which she mirrored. “When you decided to become an Auror, something came over you very quickly afterward. Your mother and I noticed it immediately, and I think your sister started tormenting your brother twice as bad shortly after that.” Bill sighed. “That girl’s a terror. Anyway, you’ve picked a treacherous path, and the Weasley clan is one of the best positioned to know exactly how treacherous. I want you to be as prepared for the life you’ve chosen as possible, and I know that’s what you want, too. You’re taking this as seriously as I’ve ever seen you do anything,” he leaned forward, looking for the world like his brother Charlie as he said, quietly, “and _that_ is saying something.” 

Bill shifted his foot up over his leg, getting comfortable in the metal beach chairs on their patio. “Whatever has come over you in the last year or two, and your intentions, have strengthened everything you do, and your magic reflects who you are as a person. You’ve changed, Victoire. For the better, I hope you would say, and you’ll always be my little half-British, all-French pixie princess. But you’ve changed, and there’s no turning back. Your story starts right now, and you’re going to have to appreciate the benefits as much as take the consequences. I suppose I will, too,” Bill said, looking out over the flower-fields for a moment.

“Don’t discount the Bonding Ritual, either, Victoire,” he added, returning his gaze to his daughter. “I know it’s a woolly subject, but it might have an effect on some of your spells going forward. Hogwarts is steeped in more magic than any of us know how to use, and you’re part of its legacy. That castle’s future is our future. Yours as well as mine.”

-V-V-V-

After breakfast, Victoire had gone for a run alone on the beach, practicing the wand movements for her Drilling hexes on her walk back to the cottage. She noticed the sloppy lines in her wards weren’t an isolated problem, and a lot of her recent wandwork was careless, now she was looking for it. She did a few sprints and lunges on the wet sand, pushing her body to take her weight and turn on the spot against the resistance of the mud under her toes. She even tried a cartwheel, and was happy no one was around to watch. A part-Veela girl with mud-stains on her thighs losing her balance like that wasn’t something you see every day, and it wasn’t a story she’d like to have any part in. Teddy had been privy to enough embarrassing facts about her, already. 

She rinsed in the waves for a few minutes, before coming back up to shore and brushing out her hair. Bill had left a towel out for her, which she wrapped herself in before casting a Warming charm. She _Tergeo’d_ the saltwater off her feet and stepped inside. 

_“Bonjour, Maman,”_ Victoire called, tiptoeing up to her sister’s room to change. Fleur called back a greeting from the sitting room, no doubt reading and sipping coffee by the windows. Victoire could hear her mother’s wireless playing low, a newscaster speaking in French about what she thought sounded like muggle governmental reforms that had been passed in Paris. 

Victoire found Bill in the kitchen, preparing three uncooked steaks and a large bowl of diced vegetables for dinner. One of the steaks was extra thick, resting in salt and bleeding a little onto the cutting board. _“Papa,_ whenever you’re ready,” she said with a smile, wearing one of Fleur’s dresses – royal blue, today – and still drying her hair with the towel. She walked to Louis’ room and sat for a while, opening _Generall Historie of Magickal Plantes_ to where she left off. This, at least, was easy enough to get through. The book had some good information in it and was reasonably complex, but it had been written four hundred years before and didn’t break much ground with Victoire, who had gotten an Outstanding O.W.L in Herbology, too, before continuing with N.E.W.T. courses. 

Professor Longbottom was an excellent teacher, though he tended to spend more time helping students who were toward the bottom of their respective classes, and Victoire had never struggled under his notice. Still, whenever she encountered an unfamiliar concept, he had always gone out of his way to offer help where he could, and had some very insightful ideas, sometimes. He could be slightly awkward around Victoire, but was never rendered incompetent. 

The exercises in this book seemed largely irrelevant to her Auror training, and she was able to skim through most of the chapters well enough without more than a quick review. She had a small bit of anxiety regarding the edition she was using; John Gerard had been a botanist, having written two volumes of herbological work around the year 1600. His second volume was the one used at Hogwarts, while his first had been published for muggles a few years earlier. Gerard was English and had written in the style of the time. 

While Victoire had been born in Britain, raised in London and the United States, and had been officially schooled entirely in London and Scotland, she was a native French speaker and had mastered it as her first language. While she was perfectly fluent in English, ultimately Victoire struggled a bit reading older forms of the language, and had purchased a copy of Gerard’s work in a modern volume. It had been translated into colloquial English by a scholar who had graduated from Hogwarts a few years before Victoire had been born. She had reasoned to herself at the time that it wouldn’t be a problem, but again couldn’t quite shake the idea now that she might miss something vital. 

There was one section of _Generall Historie_ Victoire paid critical attention to, though it took her a few re-reads for the information to sink in. The author had gone through, in extensive detail, every known magical herb found on the British Islands at time of writing that had applications outside of potion brews. There were footnotes for some of the more common ones, and also some of the most poisonous and, in one case, venomous. Victoire planned to commit as much of that section to memory as she could, and would painstakingly copy out anything she couldn’t quite manage into her notes, for reference later. She had just finished reading and started to get her notebook organized when Bill knocked on her door.

“I’m ready, sweetheart. Have time?” he said through the door, only cracking it an inch or so, in case she was brewing something.

“I’m only reading, _Papa,_ you can come in,” she said. “I’m ready too.” She found her place in her notebook and put her quills down. 

Victoire color-coded her notes and had, over the past few years, followed an adaptive organizational system to keep her writings straight. Especially when it came to Arithmantic equations it had been important, though she noticed most of the big disciplines for Auror training didn’t put much by the way of tidiness. Every time Victoire visited his office at the Ministry, Harry’s notes were a mess. 

She stood up and came around the desk to the door, walking out into the hall, turning left and up to her room. She stepped inside and made to shut the door after her father. 

Victoire had come home one Saturday in May by floo to help her mother air out the cottage, and the two of them had planned out how she wanted the sea-room to look. Fleur had stayed an extra few days to get the cottage ready for them, and to put Victoire’s vision for the sea-room into effect. Part of the repurposing had included installing a hardwood door that closed completely flush with the wall, a small strip of steel sealing the doorway when the door shut. 

As soon Bill stepped into the sea-room and the door closed, Victoire felt her wards flare, informing her that someone had entered the space. It was a little disorienting, as the magic involved acted as if she hadn’t also entered at the same time, though it wasn’t unpleasant. She had no real feeling about who or how someone had entered. That kind of enchantment must be part of more advanced wards, she guessed.

“You’ll get used to that,” Bill told her, steadying her with his hand. “It might feel a little worse than normal, since your mother’s Fidelius charm on the house warps some of the barriers inside it. I don’t think your wards are strong enough to keep out its effects, currently.” He said it plainly, not making it sound like criticism. 

Bill raised his wand and carefully Summoned the bowl of iron filings from the altar on the floor to his hand. He cast a Hover charm on the bowl, letting it float into the middle of the room. _“Accio,”_ he said again, this time drawing the French onion into his free hand. He tapped it once with his wand, before muttering something and moving his wand across the outside of the bulb, cutting it in half. He offered it to Victoire.

She looked at him quizzically, before reaching out for the onion in her father’s hand. _This is not how I expected this conversation to go,_ she thought. She grabbed the onion and lifted it, pulling the top half of the bulb away from Bill. He had cut it cleanly in half with his wand. She tipped her hand over and looked down at the strangest thing she had seen in a long time. Unlike a normal onion, this one seemed to _not have any layers._ It was still an onion – it looked, felt, smelled and, she surmised, tasted exactly normal – but the usually extra thin layers of the bulb were instead thick and solid. 

She had been wrong, she noticed. The onion had two layers: one thick, slightly yellow, firm slice of vegetable matter, separated from another white-ish and mushier inner slice. She looked up at her father, a tiny look of panic creeping onto her face.

Bill smiled at her. He deftly leant over and grabbed the bulb back from Victoire and vanished both halves. “Don’t ask me where I learned that,” he said mysteriously. “Everything’s fine, Victoire. It just means there are two spells protecting this room, layered on top of each other. The inner core of the onion represents your wards, and the outer layer is mine. The bulb wasn’t rotting, so you know there weren’t any serious weaknesses in either layer, and no curses showed through, at least as far as I could tell,” he kept smiling at her, looking a little younger than he had this morning. “The Fidelius doesn’t manifest, which is as it should be. Let’s take a look at your core.”

Bill took a few steps into the middle of the room, and tapped the glass bowl with his wand, making sure Victoire had a clear view of it. The iron filings rose into the air at eye level, twisting and rising to form a complex shape in the air before them. 

“You can’t just walk into a witch’s house and expect to be able to do this,” Bill explained, waving his wand back and forth as if he was sorting through the structure that had formed. It looked like he was shunting some of the metal out of sync with the rest of the shape, without changing the overall form very much. “You need to be keyed into the wards to be able to touch the core like this, and it might be unwise to try if you haven’t defeated the outer enchantments, first. You’re part of the wards here, or in any of our family’s homes, so you could probably take a look at them on your own if you wanted. Just don’t try it at Hogwarts without the Headmistress present. I’ll teach you the incantation later, though I’m sure it’s in Hermione and Ron’s book there. You don’t have to use iron either, I once saw someone use-”

“Okay, _Papa!”_ Victoire interrupted, holding her hands up in front of his face and her eyes popping out a little. This was a lot of information to take in.

“Right, sorry,” Bill said. He stopped moving his wand, having separated three distinct shapes. Victoire could make out her thin rectangle, complete with imperfect connecting lines, floating in front of a compact triangular prism with four faces. She noted it was impeccably proportioned to be exactly the same size on all faces, and the lines were perfect. It was also thicker, as if the lines had been drawn multiple times and overlaid again and again.

Floating behind the prism was a helix of iron filings, slowly rotating in the air and orbited by a dozen or so pockets of loose metal, vaguely flowery, that seemed to be gravitating in and out, separate but still part of the structure somehow. 

“It looks as if I’m already keyed into your wards,” Bill said, looking carefully at Victoire’s rectangle, before smiling back at her. “Your declaration of intent must have been clever, though I suggest you think it through very carefully when it comes time to ward a home of your own, or a hideout when you take over the Ministry,” he teased. Bill’s face relaxed, then grew harder when he noticed the look in her eyes. 

“Try not to be overwhelmed, sweetheart. This is more than you were expecting, maybe, but you’ll understand as you get more familiar. I promise most Senior Aurors don’t know as much about warding as your aunt and uncles do, and no one expects you to learn this stuff by rote, especially before you’re fully trained.”

“This,” Bill indicated her rectangle, “will do just fine. I’m sure you noticed you could be more exact with tracing it, but warding cores aren’t that sensitive. They’re pretty robust, for what they are, and for now you should just focus on what you know, rather than diving into being a perfectionist on things like that. Finish the book and try deciding on a core shape that fits you personally, maybe, but don’t sweat it.” 

“I prefer triangular shapes, for,” he pointed at the prism, then paused, looking at Victoire, who was nonplussed. She was calm again, trying to pay attention. “For reasons we don’t need to discuss today,” he saved himself. 

“A three dimensional core will allow you to layer different kinds of enchantments, but almost none of them are going to be relevant for any Auror that isn’t charged with very specialized defensive work, or else is expecting a large-scale battle. You’ll have help, the first time you ever need to do something like that,” he added, taking a breath. 

“In the end, they’re only teaching you how to build this stuff up in order to be able to tear it down, which is a lot more straightforward, if time-consuming. Ward-Breaking isn’t complicated enough of a Discipline to warrant its own training, because any dark wizard worth their wand won’t rely on wards to keep someone out when Curses are so much more effective. Your uncle Harry’s an exception to the rule, and he’s made infiltrating wards without knocking them down into an art form, but unless he’s your mentor when you’re a Junior, you won’t ever see an Auror plan a raid that way.”

“What’s the helix?” Victoire asked, refusing to get sucked into one of her father’s lectures. 

“Ah, that is the core of your mother’s Fidelius charm. Not my tale to tell, I’m afraid,” Bill said, tucking his thumbs into his trousers, his face looking for a second just like Grandpa Weasley when he was deflecting an awkward question about why one of his motorcycles was suddenly covered in fish scales. 

Victoire shook her head and let out a mock sigh of exasperation, the color back in her cheeks a bit. “Okay, _Papa,_ thank you for the seminar.” She let out a long breath and stamped her feet a little, before looking at him more seriously. “Thank you,” she said. “That was enlightening in several ways. _Honnêtement.”_

 _“De rien,”_ Bill replied smoothly. “Why don’t you keep working on these wards the next few weeks,” he said, using his wand to catch the iron filings in the bowl again and Levitating it down to her altar. “When we get ready to leave for London, you and I can take them down together, so you get a feel for it.”

“Sure,” she said, smiling delicately. “When’s dinner?”

-V-V-V-

The next few weeks went mostly without incident. Victoire continued her reading, finishing _Generall Historie of Magickal Plantes, Arithmantic Warding in Dwellings,_ and _Potioneering for A Better Society,_ which was well-written and engaging, and also right up her alley. Victoire had no problems with the assignments in Belby’s review sections, and checked off the Calming Draught and Eyl’s Elixir practice on her Potions list, as a bonus. 

Victoire spent a few days working on Polyjuice potion, which was immensely complicated and nothing she had ever worked with before. The actual potion took a month to cure over a flame, though Auror Trainees only needed to do the preparations up to the brew. The hardest part was usually acquiring the ingredients, which weren’t easily found in your average shop and could be exceedingly rare or expensive based on the time of year. 

Ron and Charlie had come to visit her about a week into her stay, flooing from the Burrow. Bill and Fleur had gone to help Molly with the kids and greet Arthur when he returned home from his trip, and the four returned together. Shell Cottage wasn’t on the Ministry’s floo network, instead only linked directly with Molly’s fireplace in the Burrow’s master bedroom, for security reasons. Victoire had never asked if it was legal to charm a fireplace in such a way.

When Charlie had asked about her progress and Victoire had replied she was having trouble with Polyjuice, Ron promised to send a letter in a few days with some tips that might help her, after he could ask Harry or Hermione. Ron had never mastered the potion himself, but Hermione had been brewing it for years. Victoire and Fleur had, luckily, been able to procure all of the ingredients while she was still at Hogwarts. 

By the night before she was to travel to Ron’s, third week of July, Victoire had received letters back from Philip, Karine, Max, Professor Longbottom, Hermione (via Ron), Hogwarts, and the Ministry’s Auror program, stating her application had been Accepted. She would officially begin her Hit Wizard courses and sit examinations starting the 12th of August. Philip had also received good enough N.E.W.T. grades, and would be joining her in the Hit Wizard courses, though he wasn’t scheduled to take his exams until the week after she did, as he and Max were taking a week together to visit Italy before Max left with his family to America for holiday. 

Victoire’s parents had made a special dinner of American cheeseburgers at the cottage for Victoire to celebrate her N.E.W.T.s and Acceptance into the Auror program. Teddy and Ginny had attended, though Harry was on assignment in the field for once, and wasn’t able to make it. He had written a letter congratulating her, which Ginny had delivered and Victoire pinned to Dominique’s bulletin board in the bedroom. 

The day after her results had arrived, Victoire wrote to Professors Ranunculus and Longbottom, asking to confirm if August 2nd would work for them to meet for review. She would be in London the week following for her meetings with some of _Papa’s_ contacts, and was going to take a muggle train with Philip the following Friday up to Nottingham, where she would stay the night and duel in a local tournament. She’d hopefully still be healthy starting her Hit Wizard courses, the following week. 

“Busy as ever,” Bill said of her at dinner, the last night at the cottage. “Anything you need, sweetheart?”

“Do not baby ‘er, Bill,” Fleur said. “‘Er name is _Victoire,”_ Fleur stressed the name, glaring at her husband while they ate thick, flat pasta noodles and cream sauce, with assorted shellfish. Fleur and Victoire drank a blood-red muggle wine from Bordeaux, while Bill had iced tea. 

Victoire chose not to remind her mother that she was as bad as Bill about using nicknames, and that Victoire was as much a ‘sweetheart’ as she was a ‘young French chicken.’ She addressed her father, “No, I think I’m where I should be with my readings, and the Polyjuice potion is finally done. I’d still like to deconstruct the wards tomorrow, though, please.” 

“I’ll take the pre-brew of that potion to London with me when I go,” Bill said. “A few of George’s regulars seem to be stocking up on all sorts of things, and I imagine he can make a deal.” Bill was a part-time partner with Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, as was Charlie. “I’ll put any proceeds into your vault, _Victoire_ ,” he stressed the word, “don’t worry.” 

Victoire nodded, keeping her expression even. She would have happily donated the by-products of her training, but the Weasley brothers all tended to take business very seriously, and part of that was giving credit where it was due when the family helped out. Victoire wasn’t familiar with the whole history behind it, but she thought it might have to do with Uncle Fred, who had died in the War. 

Victoire had been given a key to her private vault at Gringotts on her seventeenth birthday, in addition to a few small holdings with several other banks around the world. She had keys to some of her parents’ fortune, as well as a share of the Weasley estate that was managed by her father as a proxy for Grandpa and _Mamie._

Fleur had control of her own father’s estate, managed out of Paris, he having died from dragonpox a year ago. All of Fleur’s inheritance had been tied up for a while. The family didn’t need it, ultimately, so they had left it in a trust; Victoire didn’t know the details. 

Victoire had never wanted for much, but she did try to keep track of it all. Part of her Auror application had been submitting for a History Check, which included a financial evaluation. It was possible she would be approached by the Ministry as part of her Indoctrination and asked to explain certain irregularities, if they existed. For that reason among many, Victoire had kept a close tab on what she had access to and tried to educate herself as best she could. Aurors were expected to be familiar with Goblin Law and Regulations, and her father had been coaching her through some of them for years. 

Victoire was uncomfortable being wealthy. She didn’t know why, exactly, but she had always struggled to know how to feel about it. She felt guilty, sometimes, and also incredibly lucky. She knew that her father had grown up poor, and he had talked with her and her siblings extensively about the experience. Bill didn’t shame his children, but he was very honest about how hard life could be and how some parts of life were much easier when your family was well off. 

Bill had, of course, stressed that money can’t solve every problem. A grown man with deep, Cursed scars on his face and several, forever young, family members who Victoire only knew from photographs could make that point better than many.

She finished her dinner and spoke with her mother for a while about Dominique. The topic of the wardrobe had come up at last, and the two women had wanted to make sure they were on the same page before they were assaulted by the minion armies of Ms. Weasley the Lesser for violating her precious collections.

The next morning, Victoire woke early and went for her run. 

She came back to the cottage mid-morning to find her trunk packed and most of her Potions ingredients ready to be moved, though Fleur had left Victoire’s notes untouched, not wanting to interrupt her process. Bill helped her finish packing, and Fleur made sandwiches for the three of them while they waited for Ron, who would meet and escort Victoire before Fleur and Bill finished the last of the tidying, restored the two bedrooms back to normal, and left for London. 

Meanwhile, Victoire and Bill headed into the sea-room, to do a little Ward-Breaking.


	8. Small Breakdowns

_ “Captionem Revelio,”  _ Bill said, poking at the warded sea-room windows before sweeping his wand down, scanning the room past Victoire. “Now you try,” he said to her.

She cast the spell, the same one Professor Dawlish had taught her in sixth year to help scan rooms for traps. It wouldn’t work on some of the more intricate curses and wasn’t a spell to be overly relied on, but it was handy. Bill evidently suggested it as a simple charm in his line of work.

“Notice anything unusual?” he asked her. 

“No,” she replied. “I mean, yes. I can feel some interference, I guess. Is that the right word? But the spell didn’t reveal anything.” 

“Good. Sometimes your mother likes to leave me surprises after an argument,” Bill said, mostly to himself. “Interference is accurate enough. What you’re feeling are the edges of our wards overlapping. Your spells, only warding the sea-room, nevertheless bleed magic here and there into outer parts of the cottage. You’ve done a good job strengthening the enchantments,” he added, quickly. “It’s not that. My wards bleed too, and it’s not anything more than a side-effect of a magical dwelling that has people living in it. In the same way dust motes might swirl around from every-day happenings, magic doesn’t settle if it’s not left alone. Though layering your core will help keep your boundaries firmer, in future.”

“Where the wards overlap,” he continued, “there can be gaps that wouldn’t exist if your wards were the only ones protecting the space. It’s part of the reason most wizards will take down their wards to start again when updating or changing significant parts of their strategies, rather than build on top of old foundations. The Fidelius charm your mother’s maintained here since you were born is more effective without the one I had over the cottage during the War, so I dismantled mine before she started.” 

“Kind of like layering Shield spells?” Victoire asked.

“That’s right,” he replied. “If you and I were to cast two  _ Protego  _ charms over the exact same area, they wouldn’t be any more effective than would just one, though I admit whichever of us cast a sturdier spell would win out. It’s also possible that spells could sneak through random gaps where our spells repel each other, so it would actually be a detriment if we were to try. If you ever do layer Shields, you want them to at least partially offset from one another.”

Bill looked at her for a moment. Her eyes had glazed over, just a tiny bit, and he frowned.

“I follow you,” she said, a little roughly. “Keep going.” 

He nodded, his face setting a little. It was the same look he had when he mentioned her Wheezes gold. “Right. If you were an Auror standing outside this room, what would you want to try first, to get inside?”

“I guess walking through the door would alert you?” she asked, clarifying the rules of his exercise, and also trying to inject a little humor.

“If you had never been inside since I built the wards, right, and let’s assume there was a nasty trap waiting for you, to boot. Did you notice your wards didn’t alert you when I entered, this morning?”

She grunted tonally, sounding like her mother when Fleur agreed with something but didn’t like it. “I was trying not to worry about that. Anyway, I would want to be able to see and hear anything going on inside the room, so I couldn’t be ambushed when I got through.”

Bill nodded sagely, and indicated she should continue.

“Erm,” she hesitated. “I’d want to know what I was up against. If I could somehow trace the defense?” she suggested, not sure about her answer.

“You’re usually more decisive than this, Victoire. Are you nervous? This is advanced, deep magic, and I’m just quizzing you. Please try to relax. You’re right. Sketching up a schematic of the room and any magic you might be able to trace would be helpful, and it's what Harry does whenever he can, only on a larger scale.”

Bill conjured two small wooden stools and encouraged his daughter to sit. “I know you’re at wit’s end already, this summer. It’s a lot to take in. Your mother is worried about you, but I know you’ll be fine once your mind catches up with all the things you’re putting it through,” he paused, giving her a good look. “I think your boyfriend is worried, too. I can’t say I’m broken up about that, but I told Teddy I have complete faith in you.”

That meant something to her.

“If you were trying to break into someone else’s wards, it would be best to practice this from outside. Since you already know how your core is constructed, though, and which enchantments you’ve cast, we can do it from in here. I’d like you to break through them, not just let them drop, alright?”

“Okay,” Victoire said, holding her wand very still in her hands, set in her lap. “What do I do first?”

Bill smiled again. “Once you’ve cast whatever  _ Revelios  _ you like, and you’re confident you’re ready for a counter-attack, you’d want to use an offensive spell to test the defenses. You can use any series of probes to gather information about the magic used in constructing the outer wards but, since you know what enchantments were used already, we can skip that part.”

“If someone inside the wards already knows you’re coming, you may well be more straightforward attacking them. For the first few years of Auror work you won’t be breaking into any wards unless you’re forcibly arresting someone and, if they have wards at all, they’ll be alerted to your presence in most cases. Charlie mentioned you’ve gotten good at Drilling hexes since the last time he saw you; one of those would work fine. Any kind of Blasting curse or physical force will work, too, but keep in mind you might not always want to draw attention to where exactly your attack is coming from. The front gates of Hogwarts are protected quite differently to how the secret passageways keep out intruders. I’ve also seen household wards deconstructed with  _ Confundus  _ or even  _ Alohamora, _ depending what the wizard inside was looking to keep out.”

“I understand,” Victoire said to her father. She raised her wand, and aimed it at the east wall.

_ “Lagann!” _ she said, loudly. A fat, yellow beam of light left her wand, undulating a little as it flew across the room. It looked almost like a Stunner, but it was slightly shorter, wrapped in a fat rusty spring of magic, and shone ochre. Her Drilling hex hit the wall and dissipated, a small flash of light rippling from the point of impact. 

“Try again, a little lower,” Bill said, pointing at a blank space of wall under where she had aimed. 

_ “Lagann!” _ she said again. The first spell had set something loose in her wards. She could feel the magic  _ sagging  _ again, like how it had after she first connected the Shield charms to her core, weeks earlier. The Shield collapsed under her second hex. Victoire’s wards alerted her, spiking her heart rate for a beat and warning there had been an attack, though she didn’t feel anything more than that. 

“Good,” Bill said. “If this had been the only room in the house under Shield wards, you might hear the ocean through the hole in your enchantments, standing over there,” he said, pointing to the space on the wall. “The wards themselves are still active, but someone might be able to drop a Niffler in, or something, now. Try again, over here.” Bill indicated the large windows on the south wall, facing the surf. 

Another Drilling hex shot across the room, breaking through more of her enchantments. Bill had her try  _ Reducto  _ and  _ Confringo _ , to get a feel for how they affected different layers. Victoire had seen all of these spells used in duels, but it was different aiming for an invisible barrier, rather than just having your spells blocked while trying to get at your opponent. Blasting curses were also banned in youth leagues, as they could be very dangerous even if your spells missed. St. Mungos and similar hospitals always had an influx of patients after the first rounds of some of the larger adult tournaments. 

Bill reiterated that Auror Trainees didn’t need to worry too much about infiltrating wards. If someone was refusing to surrender during an arrest, the Ministry allowed Hit Wizards and Aurors the authority to break through magical defenses by force. He did tell her about two spells, though, that he thought might be relevant: the Anti-Apparition jinx, which Victoire had already studied as she had read more of Hermione and Ron’s text, and a useful spell the Americans used sometimes, a Boggart Summoning ritual. 

Both spells were well beyond O.W.L. level magic, and weren’t taught at Hogwarts. Hermione, in Chapter 15, recommended Anti-Apparition jinxes as one of the possible spells to include in a ward, though it was sometimes tricky to cast on larger structures and many wizarding families believed being able to Disapparate in the event of an emergency outweighed the risks of unfriendly wizards Apparating inside their homes. 

Bill disagreed, which didn’t surprise Victoire. He also said, “if someone knows you’re coming, you’re going to need to keep them inside long enough to make an arrest, so casting the jinx around someone’s wards will be standard procedure for you.”

Victoire had first come across the Boggart ritual a few days before, skimming through her copy of  _ Dark Creatures and How to Fight Them _ . It was quite clever, really, though she couldn’t imagine it would work against some of the more serious dark wizards out there. Common criminals might be fooled, though, and who knows how fear affected someone paranoid about being caught for their crimes. The ritual was extraordinarily simple, for what it was. It was still a ritual, though, and therefore required more commitment than an average spell. 

Magical spells, like charms and jinxes, usually just needed a verbal command (which Victoire now thought of as a declaration of intent, in miniature) and a somatic component, like a flourish or jab with a wand after completing a standard movement, which depended on the spell in question. 

Potions were products of spell reactions between magical ingredients, which were usually provoked by actions from the Potioneer. That’s why potion recipes had very specific stirring and mixing requirements; those took the form of the somatic components of standard spells, and caused the reactions to occur.

Rituals, for all that they could be, were just spells that also required material components, but didn’t leave behind a product after the spell was completed. 

A witch or wizard need only a few easily gathered, though sometimes potent, ingredients for this particular ritual. They were then blended, or burnt, inside a large empty trunk or the like, before adding a handful of Peruvian Instant Darkness powder, which Uncle George had been importing - and supplying his family with - for years, while completing an incantation. There was a limit to how many Boggarts were in Britain and would respond to a Summoning at any given time, but it wasn’t a very common need and most Ritual attempts were successful. The basic idea was to summon a Boggart to occupy the trunk, which could then be unleashed within the wards you wanted to attack.

Some wizards might see through the attempt and know how to counteract it, but there were lots of documented cases of criminals being flushed out by absurdly strong and unlikely magical creatures who had suddenly materialized within their home prior to their arrest, and Victoire smiled to think she was now in on what had really happened. She mused that, in all fairness, even a recidivist who was aware of the ploy might not want to take the risk that their worst fear  _ wasn’t _ a Boggart, and would take their chances against the Aurors, instead.

After five minutes, Victoire had punctured, broken or bypassed enough of her enchantments to be able to, as Bill called it, ‘enter the room unopposed.’ Once she had tried different spells against each layer of the ward, it was easy to replicate which results worked best and bring down the rest in short order, which was almost frightening. She supposed the consolation was that she could feel the magic of her wards being torn down, and would have had ample time to fight back, if someone had attacked even her simple wards in such a manner. 

“Even with all of your enchantments cracked open,” Bill started, “your wards are still active. You would still be alerted to new presences or curses, so long as your original wards would have picked them up at full strength. This is what makes homes more defensible than, say, a tent in the woods you were protecting on short notice. Your magic has aged into the structure itself and, if you so chose, you could reestablish your outer ward around your core fairly easily, even at this stage. It wouldn’t banish any dark presences from inside your home, but it would be possible to rebuild relatively quickly, even in the middle of a fight, if you were desperate. Assuming the walls of the building were still standing,” he added darkly. 

“When you’re trying to get inside to make an arrest, this is as far as you’d usually get,” he said to Victoire. “There’s little reason to break the core. It’d just be insult added to injury, and Aurors aren’t in the business of wasting time in order to make a point. At least not anymore. If you did have to do so for some reason, you’d start by using the same trick we used when you first started, tracing the shape of the core and checking for redundant protections. At that point, you could use any number of means to subdue, break, change, or even hijack the core and raise your own wards around the building.”

Victoire was nodding, every now and then taking down a note in shorthand on a small pad she carried in her pocket.

“That’s probably good enough, for today,” Bill said. “Why don’t you drop whatever’s left of your enchantments, and then take down the ward’s core. It will be less stressful on your magic than if we were to break it here together. Good work, sweetheart.”

“Thanks,  _ Papa.” _ She experimented for a couple minutes, plucking at the remnants of her Shields and poking the space in the air where her core had been constructed, and at the altar. After a time, she was able to pull her wards down and scrub the room of her active magical signature, and leave the sea-room under her parent’s usual protections, instead. 

Victoire and Fleur ate  _ jambon-beurre _ sandwiches on baguettes while they waited for Ron. Bill snacked on fluffy white bread and a few raw slices of fatty salmon he had picked up that morning from the muggle town, fresh from a nearby river. 

Ron showed about an hour before noon, Apparating onto the rocks a little ways from the cottage. Bill’s wards, quite a bit more intricate than Victoire’s had been, alerted him, and the family was outside on the sand by the time he had walked within range to say hello. 

“Oi, Bill!” he called over the wind blowing in from the shoreline. The two redheads shook hands. 

Bill wasn’t a short man, but Ron had several inches on him, though his hair was thinner these days. On the other hand, Bill had always been more filled out than Ron. Charlie and George were built more athletically than Victoire’s father, similar to how Fleur had always been muscular where aunt Gabrielle was skinny, but all of the Weasleys had grown into themselves as they got older. Ron had retired from the Auror program before Victoire was born, but he kept in shape and occasionally consulted for the Ministry with more involved investigations.

“Hullo Victoire,” Ron said, stepping forward to receive her hug. “Have you sorted out your priorities, well enough, then?” he asked her. 

She nodded into his shoulder, holding him for a little longer than normal. Victoire had noticed she’d been jumpy lately, and she was having a tough time with the emotions involved in everything, these past weeks. It was good to see Ron, and she was excited for the promise of a change in scenery. 

She had sent a long letter to Teddy a few days ago, venting about her summer, and she hoped he would understand that she needed some extra tenderness next time they saw each other. Teddy sometimes fixated on trying to solve problems for people, and didn’t always default to just being there for them. Victoire and he had had talks about it, in the past. He was trying, but it wasn’t always enough.

The four of them caught up briefly, Ron filling Fleur in on the chaos Dominique and Louis had managed at the Burrow, and congratulating Victoire properly on her N.E.W.T.s. He promised he had a few small gifts for her, back in London. Bill asked how Arthur was; the two had only caught up briefly a few weeks ago and, between Bill’s stay in America and Arthur’s trip north, they hadn’t connected much. Ron, or else Ginny, was a more reliable source than Charlie for that kind of thing, in Bill’s opinion.

They said their goodbyes and Victoire walked back past the wards, holding Ron’s hand. They Disapparated together, arriving in front of Ron and Hermione’s house, 700 Aberdeen Park, in London.


	9. Some Kind of Creature

Ron had bought the Aberdeen house in late spring, the year Hermione graduated from Hogwarts, with Galleons from some of the bounties he had shared claim for killing Voldemort. Ron had been in the middle of Auror work, so Hermione had spent weekends away from Hogwarts, preparing the house and buying furniture with Ginny and one of Hermione’s muggle friends she had met at the end of the summer prior. The girl had moved to England from Australia and lived with Hermione’s parents at the time. 

Victoire liked their house. It wasn’t large, with only two bedrooms, but was spacious and bright. Victoire had gotten lost exploring Hermione’s library as a child, and had to be extricated by Ron and George, who used a modified Summoning charm after an hour of searching. Victoire hadn’t ever enjoyed flying, and she wondered if that afternoon had contributed. 

Ron and Victoire walked through a high gate, taking four big steps on a narrow concrete path, then up several stairs to the main level of the house. The house’s exterior was three stories, but also rather narrow. The stone was a dark slate, with high, vaulted arches and black roofing, and was charmed so that the rain, which was falling lightly, didn’t reach them once they crossed through the fence. Victoire had had to get used to rain in July when she had moved back to the continent from America. She didn’t mind getting a little wet, but she was a sunlight type of person. 

So was Hermione, it turned out. 

Most of the walls in the house were enchanted with a similar spell to the ceiling of the Great Hall at Hogwarts, and were cleverly done at that. Most of each wall was invisible, and there were great vantages in every room that looked out over the city, a small orchard, or the Thames. Small areas of each room were blocked out by stone, where one looking out might have otherwise seen a view of a gutter, the dark green hedges, or the iron fencing. Victoire guessed that the enchantments were even more impressive than they looked, as many of the neighboring houses were owned by muggles and would surely have been in the way of the views had she merely looked out a window without spellwork in effect. 

“Hi, Victoire!” Hugo, Ron’s son and several years Victoire’s junior, came into the hall. His red hair was as eye-catching as Ginny’s was, and he had on what looked like a full length rubber rain suit, though it was dark blue instead of the yellow ones Victoire had seen in films. 

Hugo Granger-Weasley was very close with Lily Potter, who adored Victoire. The two of them often gravitated to her during family gatherings where all the households got together, and he reminded Victoire a lot of Louis. Hugo wasn’t as shy as Louis, though, in unfamiliar company. 

“Hello, Hugo,” Victoire walked up and took his hand in both of hers, raising it slightly. “Glad to be home?” 

Hugo hadn’t ever really warmed to Hogwarts the way some of the family had. A few strange occurrences his first year had robbed him and Lily of some of the grandeur, and he was always going home on weekends to be with his mother, when he could. Victoire wondered if Hermione’s recent political commitments had had an impact on him.

“Yea! I’ll see you for supper, cousin,” he said, shaking free of her grip and running to the front, past his father.

“Home and changed before then, eh?” Ron called to his son, reaching to ruffle the boy’s hair but missing. “The rest of the kids will be home tonight,” Ron said to Victoire. “And Hermione should be here before bed to say hello. Do you want to get settled, and we’ll meet in the cellar in half an hour?”

Victoire agreed, leaving to find her two trunks downstairs. The Aberdeen house wasn’t a normal townhouse, with several rooms operating instead sort of like the Room of Requirement at Hogwarts, which nowadays was infamous. Clever enchantments didn’t stop at the walls, here, and there were several broom cupboards or walk-in closets off the main sitting room that, with the right password, would reveal the children’s bedrooms, among other places that Ron or Hermione would spend time. 

For most visits, Victoire spent time in five of the six main rooms of the house proper, except when she was invited into the hidden library. The entrance hall led into a large sitting room, which was shrouded with glamours. If you knew where to look, there were at least twenty wooden and iron doors that might open for you off the sitting room, but only a few were visible at any one time, and some were enchanted like the exterior walls, so looking through them into the yards made it hard to focus. Past the sitting room was a large kitchen and the main dining room, which mainly had views of a small outdoor garden behind the house. Through the dining room, a large den took up most of the rest of the house. 

Victoire had seen the den full of playthings and small, flimsy fortresses where the children would stage pillow battles and indoor snowball fights, or else several squashy sofas and coffee tables. Today, the room was cleared of furniture and was almost bare, though the walls were accented with rich artwork and classy portraits. There were a set of double hardwood doors on a far, interior wall that looked like they both opened back to the hall, completing the circuit of the house. 

Victoire knew better. One of the doors, when opened alone, led to Ron’s warded cellar where Victoire would finish her Potions work. Near the arch between the den and dining room was a stairwell, leading up to the master bedroom and down to the guest room, where Victoire would be staying. 

Victoire touched the two exterior walls of the guest room as she entered, turning off the enchantments and returning her to the relative darkness of its light-blue painted walls. Someone walking outside couldn’t ever see through the walls into the house, of course, but it would have been unsettling to keep the enchantments working all the time, and the spell could be dropped temporarily, for privacy. The guest room was also slightly below ground level, level with the cellar, though the view out didn’t betray the fact. It made Victoire dizzy, sometimes, still.

She didn’t have many things to unpack, and preferred to dress herself each morning out of the trunk anyway, rather than move clothes to the large walk-in. Bill had given Victoire a small green backpack before she left, which had been hers from years earlier. He had enchanted it with an Extension charm. 

Victoire had in the bag a few vials and ingots of benign Potions ingredients, her notes, a mokeskin bag of iron filings and a few other trinkets Bill had said might come in handy with her studies, a metal water bottle,  _ Transfigurative Defenses _ and  _ Battle Magic in the Modern Era _ , and her wand, which she took out and put on top of the low dresser near the door to the stairwell. 

Victoire’s black Hogwarts trunk, still sporting the school crest, stayed locked on the ground near the walk-in. She ignored it as she opened Fleur’s old, periwinkle blue trunk. Two cauldrons and a set of scales dominated the inside, though Ron would allow her to use his. She had only brought her Potions set at all in case she still had work to do by the time she made it to Nottingham with Philip. Next to the smaller cauldron, Fleur had packed a dark redwood chest that Victoire recognized from their house in Laguna. 

The chest was big enough to hold three or four textbooks, though Victoire knew it had her more sensitive ingredients inside and was magically sealed for the time being. She could sense one of her father’s ward signatures, which Bill had briefly explained last week, layered under a Stasis charm. She and Bill had agreed he should put a small ward on the box, for security, and also so Victoire could attempt to break into the box as a little homework assignment. If she struggled with it, Ron could assist her, and Bill assured her that no amount of Blasting the chest would damage the contents underneath his wards, while they held. 

Along with the chest, Victoire pulled some Chocolate Frogs and firecrackers from her trunk, which Fleur had evidently smuggled under Hermione’s nose, for the children. Victoire laughed, thinking of the picture in the restroom off the Granger-Weasley’s living room right now that had, for as long as Victoire could remember, shown a small girl’s mouth in close-up with half a smile’s worth of rotten teeth, and a charm on the mirror to remind you to brush and floss. Finally, Victoire found and drew out three vials of Pepper-Up potion and a bottle of French Chardonnay, which she knew must be a gift for Ron and Hermione.

Victoire sat on the bed, tossing everything in a heap and sighing. 

“I might be pushing myself too hard,” she admitted, quietly. She breathed out, big breaths, and tried to relax for a moment. It had come on suddenly, perhaps brought on by the laugh her mother had left for her, unbidden, in among her work. 

Another breath in, and then out. Another, massaging her chest with her fingertips.

Victoire nodded delicately to herself, after a moment, and stood back up. 

She left her things scattered in the guest room, only grabbing her wand on the way out, back up the stairs. She’d tidy up later. 

-V-V-V-

Ron and Victoire were in the den, standing right outside the warded double doors. Ron was holding a frosted bottle of butterbeer in one hand, tapping the door with his wand. On the seventh tap, he held his wand to the door, muttered a word that sounded to Victoire like “gambit,” and pushed it open. He gestured with a smile for Victoire to enter first, taking a swig from his bottle as he did.

Victoire curtsied, and smiled at him. He had given her an ice-cold bottle, too; she cast a sly Warming charm on the drink as she descended the stairs to Ron’s cellar. She didn’t care for slushy butterbeer, so much. 

Ron followed her, sealing the door behind him.

The room was large, almost as big as the whole of the Granger-Weasley’s main level, though that wasn’t surprising. The muggle house must have been designed for a sublevel apartment, before Ron had bought the place, though there was no evidence of a duplex entrance and the cellar no longer linked with the guest room she was staying in, if it ever had. There was a corner bathroom, a very small nook cut out at one end of the room that may have once been for muggle appliances, and a single large window, which was paned in black, thick glass. Victoire couldn’t make anything out through the window, currently.

She had never been down here before, though Ron had shown her how to get in, one night in her fourth year. Ron was the type of person to lounge around in relaxed muggle clothes, or else plushy house robes, with a hot drink and a fire in his sitting room with Victoire, whenever she visited. He rarely had work to do with her around, instead always incredibly attentive to her. She assumed he enjoyed being retired very much, and he was always entertaining new hobbies or else looking to play games or talk sports with Victoire, or anyone who he spent idle time with. 

Victoire had never thought Ron wasn’t studious, or that he struggled showing interest in serious topics. She simply believed his lifestyle was that of a support-man, filling in on odd jobs for his friends or family and bolstering other witch and wizards’ goings-on, rather than having his own agenda. He was always involved in Ministry projects, and was frequently brought to Hogwarts as a guest Professor. Victoire wasn’t sure what she would find in his private cellar and, now that she was here, she still had little idea what he might get up to.

The room was low-ceilinged, with harsh white lights and beige walls. It wasn’t regular; every wall was a different length, and none of them met at ninety-degree angles. If she had guessed, she would even say each was a slightly different shade of beige, with a random pigmentation difference between each. It wrong-footed her, her eyes finding peripheral shapes that, when she turned to look, weren’t there. 

An extremely large, circular conference table, in five irregular sections, dominated the middle of the space, though there were no chairs nearby. Near the far wall, a series of aluminium island countertops rose out of the ground, full of battered and dented drawers or cabinets. It looked like he had some kind of a Potions lab set up across several of them, with sinks and cauldrons set up at random intervals. The rest of the room was empty, with thick painted lines sectioning off areas of the floor, as if there was a schematic Ron had followed setting up the table and islands, but hadn’t finished filling in. The room was clean, and looked unfinished, though everything in it was old and battered. 

“How’ve your Potions come along? Any more trouble with Polyjuice?” Ron asked her. He was laying out a few rolls of parchment on the nearest tabletop, having conjured a pair of sturdy wooden chairs for them. His wand lay on the table, next to his tea cup. Victoire finished her tour of the space, coming to sit across from him in the center.

“No, Uncle, I wa-” Victoire began, before several things happened at once.

A crack of Apparition sounded from behind Victoire, as Ron jumped from his chair. A blue light flashed for a split-second, banishing all the shadows from the far wall, as Victoire whipped around, her wand in her hand.

“Mr. Weasley,” a rounded voice spoke, out of the blackened window.

“Parvati,” Ron said, walking up to the mirror. His hands were empty, having left his wand behind. “What’s happened?”

“The family is safe,” the voice said at once. “A message came from the Minister, just now. You’ll have to come up, I’m afraid. Something’s happened, but we don’t have details yet.”

Ron turned, walking quickly to where Victoire stood and grabbed his wand, stowing it in the front pocket of his sweatpants. 

“Sorry, Victoire, this’ll have to wait. Come on.” 

Both of them raced the short distance to the stairway, Ron heading up two stairs at a time, with Victoire on his heels. He tapped the door of the cellar twice with his fingertips, then pushed it open and stepped out into the den. Victoire followed him, Ron closing the door behind her. Victoire made to turn and head into the entrance hall, but Ron caught her shoulder, pointing into the den at a translucent, shining otter. The otter was pacing the room, running swiftly up to Ron after a few seconds. 

The otter, a corporeal Patronus, spoke with Hermione’s voice, “Ron, get the kids inside. I’m alright. Harry’s on his way, there’s been an attack. He will explain.” 

Ron didn’t wait for the end of the message. On the word ‘inside,’ Ron had his wand in his hand and ran to the entrance hall, leaving Victoire behind. 

A beat later, Victoire ran after him. Ron didn’t slow down on his way through the entrance hall, the wood and glass door swinging open at a word and a wave of his wand. Victoire didn’t make it to the door, by the time Ron stopped, skidding to a halt at the top of the outdoor steps. 

A tall woman, wearing a heavy cloak and a hat just like Harry had worn on the day of Victoire’s duel with Charlie, was standing in the middle of Ron’s front yard, her hand on Hugo’s shoulder and her wand out and low.

“Mr. Weasley,” she said, her voice the same as had come from the cellar, through the window. “Rose is safe, we have her, she’ll be along shortly. Can we head inside, please?” The woman spoke quickly and firmly, her voice authoritative but not unkind. She guided Hugo up the steps, and Victoire noticed he was moving his mouth rapidly, as if speaking to Ron. The woman must have cast a Silencing charm on him. Victoire didn’t know whether to feel suspicious or not. She mostly just felt confused, and a little uneasy. The woman was a little frightening, the Auror badge on her breast doing nothing to dispel her aura.

Before the two Weasleys and the woman crossed the threshold back inside, Victoire noted two men in cloaks had taken up guard outside the front gates, red Hit Wizard sashes displayed across their backs. 

Ron lifted the spell on his son, and Hugo’s voice washed over them all in the sitting room. Far from unnerved, Hugo was gesticulating animatedly about how he had been grabbed by an Auror and Apparated from down the street back to the gates. He seemed very excited, having never Apparated before. Ron cut him off after a moment.

“Hugo, listen to me. I want you to go into your room and stay there. Do you have your wand? Hugo! Listen, just for a moment. I need to speak with Uncle Harry and I need you to go to your room,” he repeated. “Mum will hear all about you Apparating, I promise. Now go.”

Hugo nodded, and ran off to a corner of the room. He said something that Victoire didn’t catch, and twisted the bulb of a dark blue sunflower that had, a moment before, been part of a painting. A thick metal door opened out of the frame, and Hugo crawled inside.

The Auror spoke immediately, once Hugo’s door shut. 

“Orders, Mr. Weasley?”

“Stop that, Parvati. I’m Ron and I’m bloody well sick of telling you that. It’s been months.” Ron looked cross, surely stressed out by the past few minutes. “Hermione said Harry was on his way, can we wait for him?”

“Yes, sir,” Parvati said, ignoring his admonition. Victoire thought she saw the woman smirk, before she turned away. “ _ Expecto Patronum,”  _ she said, conjuring a glowing tiger into the entrance hall. “Mine are within the wards,” she said to her Patronus, waving her wand to dismiss it. It leapt at the closed front door, and vanished. She turned back to face them.

“I’m Parvati Patil,” she said, nodding her head to Victoire. Her voice had softened, though her face was again set and unsmiling. She did not offer her hand, instead keeping a grip on her wand.

“Victoire Weasley,” Victoire replied. “I’m staying here for a while, with Uncle Ron.”

Parvati nodded. She had a small, old scar on her cheek, which stood out in the sunlight hitting her face. Hermione’s enchantments let light into the house all day, though Victoire noticed it was slightly muted in places where the sun hit directly. Parvati looked up at Ron, taking her hat off and revealing close-cut, very thick hair. It was styled, but only an inch or two long at all points. 

“Sorry, Ron,” she said, putting her wand away at last. “Just having a little fun. I promise it was Hermione’s idea. I would have stopped in the next few weeks, promise.” She gave Ron a small smile. “I heard you’re about to start training,” she said to Victoire. “When we heard you were coming, we did a little research, so don’t be surprised if my team seems to know who you are, if you introduce yourself while you’re in.”

“Ron,” Parvati continued, “I haven’t heard what happened. Harry should know more, and he’s bringing Rose from the Hit Wizard office. They picked her up mid-Quidditch on that friend of her’s pitch.”

“Oi, she’ll be cross, then,” Ron said. “Let’s have a seat?” 

The three of them found spots in the sitting room, Victoire looking between the witch and her uncle. Parvati was clearly head of the Granger-Weasley’s protection team, or at least the ranking Auror on duty. Victoire wasn’t sure how it all worked, but knew that the Minister for Magic and their family had round-the-clock protection from a team of Hit Wizards, and at least one Auror at all times, who directed the security team. From what Victoire had heard, Ron wasn’t pleased with the whole set up. Maybe he had asked for an old friend of his to head up the team. Ron and Parvati both looked like they might be of similar age, and the back-and-forth about names would have been odd between strangers, Victoire thought.

They only waited a moment, though it was a tense one. Ron was rubbing his hands through his hair, and Parvati was taking notes on a pad she had pulled from her pocket. Victoire noticed it looked similar to the one she kept on her person, and that Parvati, like Victoire, used a mechanical pencil. 

The front door opened, a windswept Harry Potter directing a red-faced girl with flaming red hair into the sitting room. Harry had not Silenced Rose, but looked like he regretted the decision.

“Dad! He grabbed me right off my broom! I don’t have my wand, my broom’s proba’ly in a million pieces, and I was about to catch the Snitch! Is Mum here? I want him sacked! I-” 

Ron Silenced his daughter with his wand, clearly not as patient as Harry had been. “Rosie, listen to me. Your mum can hear all about it later. I need you to listen, please, alright?” Ron didn’t raise his voice. 

Victoire thought the nonverbal  _ Silencio  _ must be a new development in their house, because Rose was still trying to speak and clearly didn’t know when she was beaten, though Victoire was glad to see Ron not lose his temper. None of the Weasley men ever seemed to get very angry, though Victoire had given Bill a go when she first told him about Teddy. Their wives, on the other hand, were all quite capable of a shouting match in public at high volume and, sometimes, with wands. 

Ron lifted the charm on his daughter. “Alright?” He repeated. Rose nodded, still fuming but heading off to her room without another word. Victoire watched her disappear as she simply walked through a false wall near a tall, leafy plant in a pot on the floor. 

Harry sat down with a sigh, dropping his wand on a nearby coffee table and putting his feet up. He looked worried.

“Hi,” he said, trying to dispel the atmosphere a little.

No one replied, and Harry gave up.

“Sorry,” he sat back up. “I’ve just been to see Hermione. She’s fine, Ron.”

“Aye, she sent a message. What happened, Harry?”

“There was an attack. Two Wizengamot officials are in St. Mungos, an Auror’s dead, a second one’s missing. Happened right outside Gringotts, with a dozen or more people around.”

“Whoa,” said Ron, at the same time Victoire and Parvati both exclaimed, “What?”

“Who’s dead?” asked Ron, his face worried.

“Gabrielle Mime, a Junior just out of Training last spring. She finished standards early, and I’d barely met her. Allegedly, she threw herself between the attack and several bystanders. Gregory’s missing.”

“Goyle?” Ron and Parvati both asked.

“Yea,” Harry said. “He got both of the officials out of there and into St. Mungos, only staying long enough to make sure his Stasis charms held until the Healers could take over. Probably saved both of their lives. Then he went back. So far, Susan nor I have eyes on him. Do you remember that Banshee, in Croydon?”

“Yes,” Ron replied. “But that was years ago, wunnit? They never caught it, and I remember that blasted Skeeter article making sure everyone was aware.”

“Yea,” Harry affirmed. “I’m glad she’s gone. Parkinson’s a sight better to read, though her quill’s just as sharp. Anyway, we never caught the Banshee, but we ran into a few people holed up out there, a few weeks later. Skeeter had already written her piece, so Hermione and I and a few others kept it to ourselves, and the Prophet never caught wind. Nothing came of it, or I would have filled you in,” he added, sharing a look with Ron.

Harry had picked up and was twisting his wand in his hand, unconsciously. Green sparks were dropping from it, here and there, before Parvati reached out to him and took his wrist. She was gentle, and Victoire thought the look in her eye when she met Harry’s gaze was… something. Maybe sad. 

Harry pocketed his wand and twisted to look out the window. He relaxed again after a moment, and continued his story.

“A group of three wizards, Americans, were staying in a flat above a church. They had gone to ground, we think, after some kind of upset in Alaska. They hadn’t been seen since, and the Magical Congress shut down all of our information about them once they found out all three were dead.”

“Dead?” Ron said, his voice a little shrill.

“They put up a fight. We think at least two of them had a Pact. We found one with a stab wound, Cursed. He bled out right in front of me.” Harry paused, and looked at Victoire. “I’m sorry, Victoire. You’re one of us.” He said, not needing to explain further.

“The other two fought hard. One caught a Cutting curse real bad, and we couldn’t get to him. The second turned his wand on himself, in the end. He tried to collapse his wards, and we barely made it in before the whole building went. Like I said, nothing came of it, but inside the flat we found cages, and nests. Warded, intricate, expensive,” he took a breath, “and empty. They were examined and eventually melted down, and the only thing we were left with were questions.”

Harry turned and addressed Victoire directly, then, as if he was sizing her up. “You know, Victoire, Bill used to warn all of us about that look you’re giving me right now. He said your mother must have bred it into all three of you. What are you thinking?”

“You haven’t said exactly what kind of attack occurred today, Uncle Harry.”

“We don’t know, for sure,” Harry told her. “There are conflicting reports, but most of them agree it wasn’t a witch or wizard. We’re pretty sure it was something else, some kind of creature. There have been a lot of dark wizards that used things like Banshees or Bugbears over the years to terrorize people, and the Ministry eventually pushed us to move on, assuming that these three were dead and it was a closed case.”

“But now you’re not sure?” Ron asked, picking up on his best friend’s implication. 

Harry nodded back at him, gravely. “There were dark creatures present during the assassination of Kingsley Shacklebolt. I was never convinced the Alaskans were an isolated incident, but I’m even less so, now.”

“You’ve been Accepted by the Ministry to start your training,” Harry told Victoire. It wasn’t a question. “If I promise not to tip off your father, would you want to come with me to poke around Diagon Alley? Something about this smells to me. I’d like to take a closer look, see what might turn up. I can’t promise it’ll be perfectly safe, but you’ll be with me.”

Victoire did everything she could to keep her face even. “I would,” she said, seriously. “Now?”

“No, we’ll wait until dark. The Minister sent me here to take care of Rose and her family, and I’m going to do that. We’ve begun an official investigation and, to be honest, my presence might do more harm than good. Part of being an Auror is learning to rely on the people you trust, and putting the best witches and wizards for the job in charge.” He waved his finger at Parvati, as if she were a good example. “Even, and especially, where they might be better suited than you are. Susan’s team is on site, and mine are tracing Goyle. If either of them find anything, they’ll inform me. Parvati, do you need any help?”

“No, sir,” Parvati said, looking at Harry with amusement and standing up. “Thanks for bringing Rose. I’m afraid I can’t let Mr. Weasley sneak out with you tonight. You’ll understand, even if he won’t.”

Ron looked between the two, incredulously. He seemed as if he was about to argue, before changing tact. “I’m happy to leave this to, ah, those best suited for it.” He looked at Victoire, and bowed his head. “You’re going to have to work on Potions another time, I reckon, eh?”

Dinner was a quick affair. Parvati excused herself and went about her business outside the walls. Rose and Hugo joined Ron, Harry, and Victoire for hugs and a proper greeting and a quick debrief about their days, before sitting to a meal of vegetable pie and roast chicken. Victoire mostly kept to herself, listening to the children speak and occasionally asking about how their summers had been since returning from Hogwarts. Harry and Ron were both subdued, their minds elsewhere. 

After a small helping of Knickerbocker Glory, which on an average day would have had Ron championing loudly, Victoire returned to the guest room to change into something more appropriate for their adventure. As she left the dining room, Harry flashed her a look.

“Bring your cloak.”


	10. Diagon Alley By Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My vision of Parvati Patil as an Auror was, in part, inspired by this wonderful short, by dirgewithoutmusic. It’s titled [ ‘silly: in defense of parvati patil (in memory of lavender brown)’ ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2218554)

Harry and Victoire Apparated to London together, appearing in an empty muggle flat a few blocks from the Leaky Cauldron.

“Ron, Hermione and I own several of these, all over the continent,” Harry told her, waving his hand behind him at the apartment. The two cast Disillusionment charms as they stepped into the street, walking quietly. “They’ve been safe houses, retreats,” Harry said, a tiny foe glass in his left hand held out in front of them, just barely visible to Victoire, as if floating in mid air. “Even for the occasional party,” he finished.

Victoire’s Disillusionment wasn’t as strong as Harry’s. She wasn’t invisible, but she blended into the shadows and, she told herself, she would be less recognizable than Harry if they ran into anyone. She hoped that was the only risk they ran, at least.

She was sure Harry would have bolstered her charm had she asked, but he seemed determined to let her act on her own merit, for now. 

“I need to ask you something, Victoire,” as they reached the courtyard that hid the portal into Diagon Alley. “This is awkward, but it’s important I bring it up, so let’s just get through it quickly. I’m offering to take you along on one condition, that you promise me you’ll follow any commands I may give you, without question. There will be time to discuss later, but you mustn’t hesitate or delay. Alright?”

Victoire was taken aback. She wouldn’t have dreamed of disobeying her uncle at any point in her life, and she was determined not to let him down tonight, taking such confidence in her. She thought she understood why he was asking, but it still stung. 

“I promise,” she said, delicately and with as much finality as she could inject.

“You’ll obey my order, without delay, even if I tell you to ‘run,’ ‘hide,’ or to ‘go back to Ron’s?’ If I tell you to leave me and save yourself, you will do as I tell you?”

“I -”

“Victoire?”

“Yes, Uncle Harry.”

“Very good. Thank you, let’s go.”

Harry tapped the brick wall with his wand, and they walked through together, blending into the brick with their charms. 

There were no totally accurate maps of Diagon Alley, to Victoire’s knowledge. The shops liked to move around, though George had implied his lease at least partially dictated where customers could find his joke shop. On her last visit, she and Janet had come together looking for neem oil and Rauni Tree Leaf powder, and had walked straight into the first shop, a large apothecary, as if it were waiting for them. 

Tonight, Victoire and Harry walked past a potions supplier and a dragon-glass spinner’s. There was a small apothecary off to the right, but it was a different building entirely than the one she had seen last, with peeling green paint and a crooked wooden sign that read --R.RHAPSODY’S-- over a short arched door frame. 

Though she couldn’t see him clearly, Victoire knew Harry still had his wand out, held loose and low, as he walked past Rhapsody’s and another shop on the right. He moved down a tiny alley that opened up before Quality Quidditch Supplies _,_ and Victoire followed him, her hands in her cloak pockets. 

Harry spoke as they walked, his voice quiet but conversational. 

“I thought we might take the long way around,” he said to her. “I don’t think we need to sneak around, but I’d like to stay off the High Street if we can. Plus, it’d be nice for you to get a look at how Hit-Wizard security works without walking right up to a Barrier. Keep your hands empty until we’re through security, just in case, but don’t drop your Disillusionment yet.” Harry became visible once more, putting away his foe glass and adjusting his cap. 

Victoire scrambled to get her hands free, leaving her wand in her cloak. It made sense, now she thought of it, not to look too suspicious. She wasn’t sure Harry had let the other Aurors know she’d be with him. 

“I’m not sure what’s happened in the last few hours,” Harry continued. “But standard procedure is to keep Barriers up and funnel foot traffic around or away from the attack site. After dark like this, it’s going to be more about keeping reporters and snoops from messing about than anything, though Gringotts is bound to be unhappy.”

“The goblins can’t be chuffed restricting bank access?” Victoire ventured, feeling herself trying to impress more than she might on a normal day. She really was excited to be here.

“Right,” Harry agreed. “I think they’ll have cooperated, since the reporters would end up being more irritating than the Department people, but I’m sure they aren’t serving lemonade.” 

Victoire caught a glimpse of the High Street over a low wall between a tailor’s shop and a fancy cafe called _Siegfried’s._ She could see the fire-lit signposts on the opposite side, and the entrance to the Ice Cream Parlour, which was still serving guests. 

“Susan’s team still on-site will be looking for how they got in and out, but they’ll be mostly done by now,” Harry said.

“Why?” asked Victoire. She figured it had to do with how few actual entrances there were into Diagon Alley. There were only so many archways… but her eyes widened as she realized she was utterly wrong. There were _dozens_ of ways into Diagon Alley if you counted fireplaces, and it was possible to fly in on broomstick, by carpet, or a hundred other modes of travel. Victoire was hit by a wave of shock as she realized how lost she was in this kind of environment. There were so many variables…

Harry glanced at her, noticing something in her face. “Their first priority would have been to interview shop owners and witnesses, but they won’t have hoped to really learn anything that way. The interviews are a distraction. Susan knows there’s a small window of time before accomplices will have disappeared, so she would have tried to track their escape or find anyone hiding in the Alley itself without much delay. She’s good, Susan is. Most of her team will have moved on from local searches, by now.”

“What about -” Victoire started, but Harry turned a corner toward the main corridor, and several things happened at once. 

_Bang._

Two bright yellow flashes went off a meter in front of Victoire, followed quickly by a _Crack_ of Disapparition and another, heavier, bang. Harry, suddenly gone, had been standing two steps ahead of her, and Victoire saw two wands hit the ground rolling, off to her right, as if they had been blasted away by a ricocheted spell. A second later, a tall, blonde man in a brown coat fell into Victoire’s line of sight, stiff as a board and unmoving. Harry stepped back into view, kneeling at the man’s side and touching him lightly between the shoulder blades with a hand. 

Victoire saw a thin, slightly shorter-than-normal wand in Harry’s left hand as he said aloud _“Accio,”_ and the two wands flew through the air back into reach, before he used his holly wand on the man. _“Finite.”_

The man rolled over and sat up, breathing heavily, against the back-alley corner of Flourish, Blott, & Chang. 

“Sorry, Smith,” Harry said, stepping back and giving the man room. He slyly pocketed the thin wand, making eye contact with Victoire as he did so, and shook his head once, very slightly. 

“Potter,” Smith said flatly, after a moment. He got to his feet smoothly, brushed his hair forward with a hand, and reached out his arm to Harry, clearly gesturing for his wand back. Harry gave it to him.

“Swear I got you first,” Smith said, haughtily. He was still faced away from Victoire, who hadn’t moved. She was very careful to keep her hands down and visibly empty. “Didn’t know you were here. Went to see the Minister, did you not? I’d have thought you’d leave this to others.” Smith didn’t sound alarmed to see Harry, though he seemed genuinely surprised. The attitude he gave off wasn’t aggressive, but it wasn’t friendly, either, Victoire thought. He sounded like he was a wary business partner who had just seen a colleague sell something for much less than it was worth. 

“I thought I’d check in with Fielding and Marchbanks,” Harry replied, not rising to the bait. “Is Sweydyr with you?”

“No,” Smith said immediately, as if he couldn’t resist answering a question. “I’m investigating the Alley.” 

Harry nodded, and gestured for Victoire to come forward, his face lined. “You can lift the enchantment, Victoire,” he said to her. Without introducing her, Harry said “lead the way, Smith,” and started walking toward the High Street. Smith had looked shocked to see Victoire walk out of the shadows, seemingly from nowhere, but didn’t say anything to her. He spun on his heel and took quick steps to catch up to Harry. Victoire jogged to keep up, her fingers open and arms tucked at her sides, moving in line with her steps. She felt awkward.

“Did you get permission to bring a Trainee along, Harry?” Smith said, as they all reached the street. Gringotts was to the north of the Alley today, and Victoire could see Privacy Barriers erected at staggered points spiraling away from the bank’s entrance, each manned by Hit-Wizards in overcloaks, their red sashes prominent across their chests and backs. 

“I let Susan know, Zacharias. She’s my niece.” 

“Hm,” Smith grunted, looking back at Victoire for a second. “Okay.”

“Sir!” A voice called out, a thin man in checkered robes trotting over to the three of them, nodding quickly at Smith and then at Victoire before speaking to Harry. Victoire hadn’t ever heard her uncle called ‘Sir’ before Parvati had, in jest, that afternoon, but had the wherewithal to realize shouting “Harry Potter!” in the middle of Diagon Alley wasn’t a good way to keep reporters away. 

“‘Lo, Harlon,” Harry started. “I’d like you to meet Victoire Weasley,” he said at once, and the man deftly held out his hand to her, smiling wide. 

“Harlon Fielding,” he said, with a slight bow. “Glad to see you on, at last.” Victoire smiled back, unable to control her glow. She bowed to the man, managing to resist winking. 

“What’s happened?” Harry said, starting to walk toward the bank and guiding Victoire with him by her arm. Zacharias Smith was left behind, and Victoire was careful not to turn and make eye contact with him. She could hear him huffing, though, as she passed.

“Smith’s team got here two hours ago,” Fielding said in a low voice. “Madam Bones and Marchbanks started door-to-door almost immediately after the Patronuses went out, and we got eight Hit-Wizards manning Barriers before anyone was brave enough to come snooping. They moved Gabrielle inside the bank, and the Madam went in, too,” Fielding gestured to the closed marble doors of the bank, as the three of them idled in front. “She got the goblins to move their guards inside after about fifteen minutes, and I moved in with Crutcher. We swept between here and the Leaky Cauldron, then back and out to Ollivander’s. Marchbanks took the rest of the Alley, Knockturn, and Cardin.”

“Well done,” Harry told the man. “Did you find anything?” 

“Blood,” Fielding said, glancing at Victoire for a second before looking up at the marble columns. She followed his gaze and, several meters above their heads, saw a dark spray jetted across the shining stone in the light of the street lamps. 

“Not much of it,” Fielding continued. “Most of the fight, we think, was spellwork. Gabrielle was unmarked, but we think one of the officials was slashed. We found two sprays up there, that one you see and another over that awning ledge, just there. He must have been lifted five meters up before whatever it was actually took a piece out, and he must have been lucky not to hit the ground hard after he was let go.”

“Probably Goyle’s work,” Harry said, staring up beyond the bank’s entranceway.

Fielding nodded. “We’ll find him, Harry.” He gave Harry a meaningful look.

“I’ll owl Malfoy,” Harry said. “I’m sure he’s heard rumors already, and he won’t leave it to us without making his voice heard. Right, what else?”

Fielding walked Harry and Victoire up and down the Alley for just under ten minutes, outlining everything they knew or guessed about what happened.

Victoire could tell immediately Fielding was a smart man, and noticed that he seemed professional but also emotionally invested in his work. He spoke well of Auror Goyle, and sounded generally distraught when he described what had befallen Junior Auror Mime. He was careful to tell the story so Victoire could follow along, since Harry already knew some of the details. 

It had all happened quickly. The two Wizengamot officials had left the bank together, with Goyle and Mime staggered around them. Goyle came out first and turned right, onto the High Street, where he was met by a man in a hooded cape, which had been black or dark gray. Even before the man had properly started the attack, Goyle had raised a Shield Charm around the officials and deflected a spell or two, once they came. He had defended the officials with Stunners and shouted for bystanders to clear the street. The man in the cape had fled.

At the same time, another person had run out of Nocturne Alley, facing off against the officials. He or she - witnesses weren’t sure - had conjured several panes of glass with a wand brandished from under a heavy black cloak, sending one toward the bank’s entranceway and another toward a crowd of onlookers. Mime, coming out into the street from behind the officials, had shattered both panes with two well-placed curses of some sort, and yelled for them to drop to the ground. Another pane had smashed into the marble behind Mime, and Fielding showed Harry and Victoire the glass shards skewed off to the side of the steps.

“These,” Fielding began, pointing out seven distinct piles of splintered wood spread through the street’s intersection, “seem to be furniture chests. Mostly pine, some mahogany, if it matters,” he said. He thought they were wine cabinets, given the intricate notches and hooks inside of each one. They had all been dropped into the street from above, and six had smashed into cobblestones or marble steps without further consequence. 

A seventh cabinet had fallen directly on top of one of the Wizengamot officials, apparently straight through Goyle’s Shield. The man had barely survived, and was being treated at St. Mungo’s with over sixteen fractures, including his skull. 

The Aurors had had trouble getting any more information than that, other than finding Gabrielle, fallen and lifeless, in the middle of the street with her wand nearby. One witness had stuck around to see the end of the fight, but she was a hag and had been unable to articulate what she had seen beyond a “tall, bright creature” lifting one of the officials in the air, and the cloaked person running back down Knockturn Alley (or vaguely south, at least). Mime had run to intercept the cloaked figure before they could send more spells at bystanders, and had taken a curse head-on. Fielding had said it was almost definitely the Killing Curse. 

“Tall, bright creature,” Victoire repeated after Fielding had finished. She rubbed her nose, staring at Harry for confirmation before continuing. He just shrugged at her. Victoire was trying not to think about Gabrielle Mime. 

“I couldn’t get more out of her,” Fielding said, resignedly. “She actually said the word ‘spirit,’ not ‘creature,’ but that could be hag-mumble, and it seems more likely it was some kind of monster, not a ghost.”

Harry narrowed his eyes at this, but said nothing. 

“It would have had to be something pretty big to lift him, but it doesn’t seem likely a Giant could have materialized in their midst,” Fielding said.

“No, definitely not.” Harry said. “It’s more likely the man was levitated, and I bet whatever did it was inside one of these cabinets when it fell.”

Fielding thought about that for a moment. “That might make sense, but then I’m baffled as to how it slashed his throat while he was five meters in the air, and our hag certainly didn’t explain it. These aren’t that big, either,” he said, toeing the wooden remnants nearby.

Victoire was at a loss. The pieces of the story they had simply didn’t fit together to form a complete picture. In particular, she agreed with Fielding: there was no way she could imagine a large, magical creature could suddenly appear in the middle of a dozen people, four of whom were armed and actively dueling, dead center in Diagon Alley, in broad daylight. It was horrifying.

“How did these people get away, though? What about the ‘spirit’?” Victoire asked, almost losing the level of her words. 

“We’re going to find out,” Harry said, firmly. “This sort takes time, Victoire,” he said to her, his voice soft. “Let’s get these cabinets collected and transported.”

Harry and Victoire spent another hour in the street, supervising four of the Hit-Wizards collecting the splintered cabinets and checking in with the four Barrier guards that were still posted. 

Harry let Victoire ask a few questions to each of them, and deferred to her when it came to asking about witnesses. Most of the people in Diagon Alley during the attack had fled as soon as Goyle started shouting, and the rest were watching his duel. After Mime was murdered, anyone who hadn’t found their feet were snapped out of their hesitation, and all of the Hit-Wizards’ reports matched Fielding’s narrative, to a greater or lesser level of detail, depending. 

Victoire asked Harry if they could speak with the two Gringotts guardians that were perpetually stationed outside during open business, but he suggested it’d be better to leave it to Madam Bones’ team. He made a point to say the guards’ first priority was always to defend the bank and, since the wizards had been outside of the boundary, wouldn’t have been involved in the attack itself. Victoire knew better than to express her outrage publicly, but she instantly heard her father’s words in her head, warning her of the predictability - and ruthlessness - of goblinkind. 

After a quick trot up and down the length of Knockturn Alley, wands out, with no visible disarray, Harry led Victoire back up the High Street.

“Fancy some ice cream?” he asked her, with a gentle smile.

“I’m not really up for it, Uncle Harry,” she replied, reaching out and grabbing his hand. She drew her cloak around her and shivered, taking in her evening as they made it out of the Alley and into the back courtyard outside The Leaky Cauldron. 

They didn’t bother returning to the empty flat. Harry took Victoire’s arm and they Disapparated together, after a moment’s breather. 

-V-V-V-

Ron was waiting for them, having just ushered the kids to bed and started a pot of tea. Harry had sent a Patronus ahead of them, and Victoire was grateful for the warmth as she settled into Ron’s sitting room. 

The walls of the house were less open at night than they were in daylight, and Victoire could see nothing but starry sky beyond the borders of the room. Most of the view was shadowed by the reflection of a large fire in the grate, warming the room and giving an illusion of the house shrunken from its normal, open floor plan. Victoire felt cozy, taking off her cloak and sipping her tea. 

“What happened?” Ron said, sitting down next to Victoire and setting a small plate of lemon biscuits on the table for her. He was looking her way, but Harry answered.

“Two wands and a creature, or something like it,” Harry told Ron crisply. “Less of a random attack than the first reports implied, and definitely a case with handlers. One of them killed Mime with an Unforgivable.”

Ron looked crestfallen, but only nodded.

“Victoire did well, she’ll be a natural,” Harry said simply, sipping his tea and grinning at her, though his demeanor was still subdued. “Clever to compare notes, it was. Hit-Wizards often get information Aurors won’t from people, though I want you to remember they’re Ministry employees contracted to the Department, so I wouldn’t expect the same level of detail as in an Auror’s report.”

Ron smiled at her too, and Victoire felt overwhelmed. She wasn’t expecting this conversation to start with praise, and she certainly wasn’t thinking about her performance at that moment. She only said “thank you, Uncle Harry. It’s a really sad thing and I wanted to help.”

“I think you did,” he replied. “Auror Trainees often get different information than Harry Potter does, come to that.”

“Especially ones with Veela blood,” Ron said, seriously. Victoire couldn’t argue. “What kind of creature? What happened to Goyle?” 

Harry paused, giving Victoire a look. She took a breath, and answered her uncle. “We don’t know. After Auror Mime was…” Victoire paused again, steeling herself. “After she was murdered, most of the people around scarpered. A hag saw Goyle run off the second attacker and turn to save one of the officials from ‘a tall, bright spirit’ but couldn’t give us more detail than that, and she seems to have lost track of things. Goyle used a portkey to get both officials to the Healers before Apparating back to the Alley, but no-one had eyes on him after he left St. Mungo’s. Uncle Harry and the Ministry got alerts from a couple shop owners by Floo, and we didn’t meet up with any of the Aurors tracking him.”

“Smith was there,” Harry said when she had finished. “He’ll send me an inquest, I’m sure, and who knows what his report will say about the spirit. He stayed off the High Street while we were around.” 

“Git,” Ron said, but Victoire looked between the two, confused.

Harry caught her eye, and reached across the coffee table to refill her tea for her. “Zacharias Smith was at Hogwarts with us,” he started. “He was a member of Dumbledore’s Army right up to the last battle of the War, but got cold feet when Voldemort’s followers stormed the gates. He was offered a job at the Ministry with us afterward, and none of us vetoed it.”

“Oi, he was a right chav at school,” Ron said, slurping the dregs of his tea before refilling it. “He never was as bad as Malfoy and Goyle got, but even Hermione thought he should shove off, in the end.” 

“Smith the man is the same as Smith the boy was,” Harry said. “He’s a decent Auror - you saw him disarm me - and not a bad wizard. But he’s a bureaucrat. Stiff about his rules and policies, you see. Not exactly the crowd we ever ran in.” Harry shared a smirk with Ron, who chuckled.

“Right. Smith’s no Marauder,” Ron said, and Harry smiled widely. “Wait, Smith disarmed you?”

“They disarmed each other,” Victoire said quickly. “Uncle Harry rounded a corner and they both reacted, but Harry got the better of him, afterward. How’d you manage that, Uncle Harry, without a wand?”

Harry looked resigned, as if he were embarrassed. He pulled the thin wand from his cloak, which was folded neatly on the loveseat nearby, and handed it to Victoire. 

“This was my mother’s. Willow,” he said. “Hermione and I found it, with Andromeda’s help, stashed in Teddy’s father’s things. Ginny and I gave it to Lily on her eleventh birthday but, after her first year, bought her one of her own. Our Lily isn’t much of a Charms witch, afterall.”

“Oh,” Victoire said, examining the wand. It was swishy, and felt warm to her. She handed it back to Harry and asked, “do most Auror’s carry two wands? I’ve never heard that.”

Harry looked at Ron, and a shadow ran across his face for a second.

“Victoire, there are some things you’re going to be exposed to, over the next three years, you’re going to need to keep to yourself. You’re family,” he said this last part with a tone of finality, as if it meant everything.

“You’re family,” he repeated, “and that’s all I need in order to trust you, but I need you to understand that some things you hear are going to be for your ears only, and I trust you’ll use your best judgment. It won’t always be explicit that something isn’t to be shared, but you need to find a way not to talk about it, anyway. I’ll do my best to warn you, but from here on out, you - and Philip - need to be careful.”

Victoire nodded, putting her tea down and clasping her hands together. She gave Harry a serious look, and said “I understand.”

Harry sat back, and put Lily Potter’s wand down on the sofa. “Most wizards will never have more than one wand. Your wand chooses you, afterall, and that’s much more powerful a thing than people know. Even Hogwarts does a poor job with wandlore, and,” he paused. “And that’s on purpose. Albus Dumbledore didn’t want the majority of Wizarding Britain to know any more than they had to about the deeper magic involved in wandlore, and Ron, Hermione and I agree with that assessment. Believe me, it was a long road to our current thoughts on the matter, but it’s not a very fun story and you’ll have to just trust me.”

Ron picked up the lead, then. “I got this wand,” he started, pulling a long wand from his pocket. Victoire knew it, too, was made of willow. “Before our third year, after I broke Charlie’s old wand. Funny story. I have another wand in my cellar that’s much shorter than this, chestnut and dragon heartstring, that I took from another, really horrible cellar during the War. That’s the one I used in the last battle, actually. I also have a third one that was made as part of a set, and I haven’t told anyone besides my wife and the people in this room that it exists.”

Harry had drawn his holly wand and flicked it as Ron said this, conjuring a beautiful wand from thin air, catching it in his other hand before flipping it around and offering it to Victoire. 

She took the wand delicately, admiring it the same way she had Lily’s. The wand was a reddish brown, with a fluted base almost floral-shaped, tapering into a small orb. A straight length of wood separated the orb from another, larger one. Where the first sphere was smooth and perfect, the larger one was irregular, knotted, and dark. The wood tapered again, coming to a fine, rounded point. The wand was quite long, though not quite so as the one Ron carried.

“Four of these wands exist, almost identical to each other, though to different scales and using different woods,” Harry told her. “One was created as the War was ending by Mr. Ollivander’s father, made especially for one witch.”

“Luna Lovegood,” Ron said. Victoire held in her reaction.

“That’s right,” Harry continued. “Ollivander took over his father’s shop the year after the Victory. During the transition, Luna and a man named Dean Thomas helped Ollivander Senior, who was getting along by then. I think Dean still takes shifts in London part-time, whenever Ollivander travels. Anyway, Luna and Dean replicated the wand’s design and helped Hermione and I with, er,” he trailed off for a moment.

“An adventure,” Ron said helpfully, chuckling again. Harry looked annoyed. 

“Okay,” Harry said. “The details aren’t important. When Hermione took over the DMLE, we put a few plans into motion that were more delicate than the Ministry usually expects from any one of the three of us, and Luna helped us. She worked with Dean to design wands for us, and they’ve come in handy in a few different situations. We all have three wands, now.”

“Most Aurors don’t carry more than one wand, just like most wizards don’t own more than one,” Ron said. “I think most Hogwarts graduates wouldn’t even consider the idea of using a wand they didn’t grow up with, and I know all three of us struggled the first time we were separated from our wands. They’re not just tools, they’re sorta our lives, in a way.”

Harry nodded. “An old Auror named Moody used to carry a short staff made with wand-grade wood and a magical core. We never found it, and we don’t know who made it for him. Knowing him, he probably did the research for it himself, and burned the tree he got it from, to keep it a secret. When he died, his wand was lost, too. We looked for it after the war, but no luck there, either. I hope it ended up in the sea. He, more than anyone, taught us to rely on any single thing was foolish, and we’ve kept that teaching alive, at least amongst ourselves.” 

Harry refilled the teacups and waved his wand to lower the fire a bit, the warmth of the tea sufficient, now.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Victoire, we’re not telling you to get a second wand made. You did notice, though, how handy it came to have an extra when Smith disarmed me, and honestly I got lucky he didn’t notice. If I had been alone, I probably wouldn’t have drawn it, but I took a risk bringing you tonight and I owed it to you not to make you vulnerable.” He said this with a look that made it clear he didn’t want Victoire to blame herself.

“Did you lie to Smith when you said you got permission for me to come along?” She asked him, sipping her tea and keeping her gaze level. Harry smirked.

“I didn’t tell him I got permission. Susan wouldn’t mind, I’m sure.” 

It was Victoire’s turn to crack a smile, wondering not for the first time tonight what her relationship with her uncle was going to turn into, as she became an Auror. She hoped he could always joke with her. She had enough men in her life walking on eggshells.

Ron changed the subject, clearly bored enough to want to return to the attack on the Wizengamot officials. “Were there reporters trying to get near the bank?” he asked. “Victoire, you didn’t say much about the creature? What’s the story there?”

“I think most of them had gone back to their flats to write tomorrow’s headline, by the time we got there,” Harry said, darkly. “I sent a message to Ginny to snoop around and to check in with Parkinson, but haven’t had time to debrief.” 

“Fielding didn’t know much about the creature, Uncle Ron,” Victoire told him. “The hag called it a ‘spirit,’ and it spilt blood sixteen feet in the air after basically appearing out of the air. It lifted or levitated one of the officials up past the top of the bank gates, clawed his throat, and then dropped him.”

Ron stared at her, agape. 

“We found a set of seven wine cabinets, shattered,” Harry said, filling in the final gaps for Ron. “Conjured or Disillusioned into being, and dropped into the street. I have a feeling one or more of them will come back with warding marks or silver and titanium caging inside. It might not have been just one creature at all.”

“Whoa,” Ron exclaimed. “I see what you meant earlier about that Banshee. Did Sweydyr or Marchbanks talk to you about it?”

“We never saw Marchbanks. I think she went into St. Mungo’s or muggle London,” Harry answered. “I didn’t stick around to talk with Smith, and Sweydyr I guess left it to him.”

“What’s her story?” Victoire asked. She had spent a day with Efa Sweydyr, but didn’t get the impression she was any more likable than Zacharias Smith.

“Sweydyr?” Harry asked. “She’s joint head of the Dark Creature Catcher Squad, co-chief with Smith. Kingsley founded the sub-department under the DMLE proper a few years after the War, once Hermione pushed through all of the legislation separating Beings from anything that could be used to label them Dark Creatures. Those Aurors mostly operate independently. I think there’re thirteen of them in the sub, all Senior, but one or two have talked about going back into Susan’s purview, from what I hear.”

“Charlie calls them in sometimes,” Ron added. “They’re all specially trained, and certain breeds of dragons can be really tough even for handlers. Some of the hottest breeds, or crimes involving creatures, warrant an Auror on standby for certain things. Sphinxes, too, have been regulated by several countries now, after a bunch of deaths. You have to have an Auror present when importing them now, with a bunch of other precautions.” 

“The sub-department was designed with exactly this kind of case in mind,” Harry said. “Smith’s a wart, but he’s good at his job, and he has a lot of Ministry contacts and family all over Europe. He can pull strings even I can’t touch, and he’s a specialist on dark creatures. If there’s a clue that can be used, he won’t waste it.”

“They’re all specialists,” Ron repeated. “Harry’s sub and the Creature Branch are both made up of Senior Aurors, and it’s not like anybody gets a different salary or less authority or anything. Sweydyr is just good at managing people, so she’s Head. Smith is there because of those strings, like Harry says.”

“Something you need to realize, coming into this world,” Harry said to Victoire, “is that the British Auror Program is very political. It’s not like a muggle police force-”

Ron cut him off with a snort. “Hermione would say it’s _exactly_ like muggle police!”

Harry shook his head and continued. “There are only maybe fifty Aurors in Britain, Victoire. Hit-Wizards outnumber us three to one, and that’s _still_ not very many people. We can’t police a whole country without a lot of help keeping the wheels turning, and the Ministry takes care of a bulk of our paperwork. The DMLE is just another department of the larger Ministry, and there’s red tape in every room of that building, no matter how much Hermione’s managed to clip in the last twenty years.”

“Can we take a little break?” Victoire said, suddenly. 

Both Ron and Harry sat back, realizing they had pushed a little farther than they had planned.

“Of course, sorry.” Harry said, sincerely.

“Thanks, Uncle Harry. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Victoire got up and left the room, taking a few minutes to herself in the bathroom. 

Victoire dipped her face in the sink. 

The water was cool, and she used some of it to brush out her blonde hair with her fingers. She looked tired, she thought, staring at her reflection in the mirror. It had been far too long since she had been able to spend a quiet night in with Teddy, and she missed him greatly just then.

Teddy and Victoire had had many long conversations about what her application to the Aurors was really going to mean for their relationship. To say nothing of risking her personal safety, or even that of her family, Victoire knew three years of training was going to be hard on her in every way she could think of. She wasn’t naive enough to think it wouldn’t be excruciating for Teddy to watch, or that it would be easy on his relationship with her. 

Teddy was an empathic person, and was very in tune with his emotions. It was sometimes hard for him to get out of his feelings and accept what Victoire thought was the truth in the moment, which usually manifested as grumpiness in the short term. He wasn’t incapable of hearing her over the sound of his own heart, but sometimes he needed to get away from her to process things, before he could come back and support her. They didn’t often fight, but sometimes Victoire thought their lives would be simpler if they did. 

Victoire was also, like her mother, not monogamous. She loved Teddy unconditionally, and considered him her life partner and one of the most important parts of her life and of her family, but she had always asserted that love was limitless, and she wasn’t comfortable committing to an exclusive relationship with Teddy. She knew being with her was hard on him for a lot of reasons, and this was one of them.

To be fair, Victoire had had very few opportunities as a teenager to act on her non-monogamy; she had only ever had sex with Teddy, had never been ‘in love’ with any other person, and had not found many women she was attracted to at all. She considered herself pansexual, though she had only ever been drawn to or involved with men, and only a few at that. Still, it hurt to see Teddy doubt himself, as if her sexuality was his responsibility.

All of that took a seat when Victoire decided to commit to her decision to become an Auror. She had never meant to turn that part of her life off, and she suspected it was more accurately just dormant for now - she had, afterall, found one of the Hit-Wizards tonight rather attractive - but her determination the past year had been on nothing except preparing for this summer, and she didn’t expect that to change for a while. Love and sex could wait a few years, (with maybe some exception), she thought. 

She still missed Teddy, right then. She had a wild moment where she considered excusing herself from Ron’s and Apparating to Andromeda’s house, but she talked herself down after a few minutes, and a biscuit she had dropped into her trouser pocket. “Maybe tomorrow night,” she said to herself.

She washed up, and walked back to the sitting room to find Harry and Ron, both of whom were now nursing glasses of firewhiskey. “Biscuit?” Ron asked, offering her another.

**Author's Note:**

>   
> This is a work in progress!
> 
> I am working daily to finish Book 1 and post it in its entirety, but thought it best to post a few Chapters now, rather than wait.
> 
> Please forgive me.
> 
> -V-V-V-
> 
> Some great HP fics I am not affiliated with, but recommend highly. All of them have inspired me.
> 
> I hope they will entertain - and transform - you while you wait for me:
> 
> [The Debt of Time](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10672917/chapters/23626929) by ShayaLonnie
> 
> The One He Feared, by Taure  
> Significant Digits (HPMOR), by Alexander Davis  
> Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality, by Eliezer Yudkowsky
> 
> [Memories and Dreams](https://archiveofourown.org/series/31886) by Paganaidd
> 
> [The Sum of Their Parts](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6334630/chapters/14514247) by Holdmybeer
> 
> ***Special Mentions***
> 
> Against the Moon, by Stoplight Delight (Amazing, but INCOMPLETE)
> 
> The series of shorts [we must unite inside her walls or we'll crumble from within](https://archiveofourown.org/series/136245) and really all of the collected works, by [dirgewithoutmusic / Ink-Splotch on Tumblr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirgewithoutmusic/pseuds/dirgewithoutmusic/works?fandom_id=136512) who unknowingly inspired me to enter this world, full of magic.
> 
> Whoever you are, thank you.  
> 


End file.
